


eyes on you

by slutforcavill



Series: Eyes On You [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Abuse, Birmingham City, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, John is a Good Friend, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Stillbirth, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25201048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutforcavill/pseuds/slutforcavill
Summary: Revenge is a heavy burden to bear; it brings you down.Not everyone can hold it on their shoulders and carry on with life as free as a bird.The need for revenge was gnawing at your soul, unceasing, festering like an open, infected wound, throbbing.Murderer–Thomas ShelbyUnforgiving–YouYou kept asking yourself, wondering if you could lose your humanity in a single moment? Once lost, could you find it back and be human again? You kept wondering if humanity stayed inside you all that while, locked up, buried underneath piles of memories that made you lose it at first.You knew how some of us showed it more than others perhaps and some of us blocked it out.What you didn't know was that Thomas Shelby was slowly rubbing off on you and you were slowly turning into the man you loathed.
Relationships: Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Reader
Series: Eyes On You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847581
Comments: 25
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like rewatching Peaky Blinders - because I'm hopelessly in love with Thomas Fuckin' Shelby.
> 
> My book will mostly NOT follow the actual plotline. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Happy read, folks.

**Chapter - 1**

They all told you it would fucking get better, that time will fucking heal all wounds, but it fucking didn’t. You still felt the same; the way you felt exactly three months back, right here, watching _him_ shoot through your lover’s skull, parts of his brain and skull scattering around you like a melon that falls to the ground and bursts, chunks of it flyin everywhere. The throbbing in your heart still hurt you, making the hatred in your heart rise even more, get even stronger, feeding on the demons that resided inside you. Your thirst for revenge was so strong, all you thought of now was your gun and his head. You dreamt of Thomas _fucking_ Shelby, kneeling in front of you, while you aimed your gun right at him and slowly, released the trigger. 

_Birmingham–_

It was the devil’s lair. 

You knew you couldn’t fuckin’ walk down your own street, in the dead of the day, without being leered at, or gawked at. Often, you’d reconsidered your options, especially after Noel’s death, of moving back to London, finding a decent apartment and a decent secretary job, just like you had before you’d _met_ Noel at an official visit to Birmingham and decided to move for him. 

But this rage inside you, it stopped you, every single time you thought about leaving –  
No matter how much you hated Small Heath, it was in your blood now. 

All of it. 

You wrapped your arms tighter against your upper body, your coat doing barely nothing to protect you from the nail-biting chill that lingered in the air; as your feet carried you on. You slid your hand into the pocket of your coat and pulled out a box of cigarettes, pulling a stick out and nipping it between your teeth, followed by the box of matches while your feet kept moving forward your eyes scanning the crowd around you. It wasn’t unusual for a weekday morning in Birmingham to be like this – men all around, most of them headed to the factories while their women could be seen with their grocery baskets in their hands as they trotted all over to refill the supplies at home. 

You brought the match closer to the end of your cigarette, watching the end catch on the fire, it’s end turning yellow when you sucked on it. When you looked up, your eyes instantly fell on the door, men crowded around the entrance, getting in and getting out – Shelby Brothers LTD.

You knew there was no chance he would see you here, there was no chance he would come out of his office at this busy time of the hour. Had you known there was a chance, you wouldn’t have dared; not because you were afraid of him, but because you were afraid of yourself doing something you will regret. Yes, you wanted revenge from that fucking Shelby and you will have that, but not until the time was right. You would not make the mistake of letting your emotions and your rage take over you, you will do this skillfully. 

You took one glance at that door and turned your gaze away, your heart suddenly pumping blood at a speed faster than a racehorse; making your hand involuntarily fly up to your chest and rub it, trying to sooth the sudden fluctuations that you felt. You knew it was rage but there was something that was drawing you to turn back around and look once more. 

So you did. 

In a slow motion, your feet stopped walking and you took a lingering drag of the cigarette, slowly turning your head until your eyes were fixed on the door. That’s when you saw it – a piece of paper, a kind of a notice that had been fixed on the wall next to the door. You couldn’t read it from here but you knew it was a notice and you were, suddenly, curious. 

You looked to your left and then to your right and then found yourself walking closer towards the Shelby house. As you inched closer, the notice on the wall started getting more and more clear, occasionally your vision obscuring as someone stepped in your way, blocking your view of it. You found yourself pushing through the men, trying to inch closer and closer to the notice when the clock struck 9 AM. 

The front door flung open and the younger Shelby, John, walked out, his suit crisp and ironed with not a single crease on it, his Blinder cap on his head and a cigarette pressed to his lips. He pushed his way through, occasionally placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder and shoving him slightly to make way for himself. 

You were about to turn your head the other way and quietly walk out through the alley behind the house but John caught your eye, his eyebrows shooting up in curiosity. 

The crowd that circled around just few seconds back had dissipated now; most of them having disappeared inside and only a few remained. You awkwardly shuffled the weight of your body from one foot to another and looked on as the younger Shelby brother approached you. 

“Mornin’ , you lost?” he raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to respond. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around your upper body and you lifted your eyes, fixing it on him, your inner psyche laughing at you. John Shelby looked so innocent, so pure, but yet he was a Fuckin’ Shelby, who did nothing to stop his brother from shooting the love of your life. He just watched him die. 

You _hated_ them all , all the Fuckin’ Shelby’s.

“Excuse me?” 

You realized that you hadn’t answered him and he was eyeing you with suspicion now. You slowly turned to the notice on the wall and then back at him. 

“Mornin’, just dropped by to read the notice out there,” John’s stare followed you to it and then back. You watched as his chin moved a little in the faintest of the nods. His lips parted and words flew out of his mouth, “It ain’t anythin’ of importance if you ain’t lookin' for a job.” 

“I am, actually, _uh_ , lookin' for a job,” you blurted out.

No, you _weren’t._

But now you were –

“Well then, I’ll leave you be to go through the notice. Drop by the Garrison at 12 noon, I’ll get you a meeting with Thomas.” he nodded and took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds before he turned around and disappeared into the Shelby house, the door slamming behind him. You could hear voices coming out from the inside. You straightened yourself and walked up to the notice, your eyes skimming through its contents as fast as they could. 

As you read through, you felt your lips twitch slightly and hint of a ghostly smirk break out against your lips. This was an employment notice – Tommy Shelby was looking for a bookkeeper, someone to help with maintaining the books and the files.

You needed this job. This was your one way of getting the revenge your heart bled for – to watch Tommy Shelby cry the same tears that you had, for months. You looked at the notice more carefully, scanning through it to get the details.

As if on cue, you turned around and starting speed walking, as fast as your feet would carry you. You walked and walked, until finally, the dull grey walls of the building you lived in came into view; the paint chipped off around the edges, the wood on the front door so soggy and weak, it could break with one kick to it. Fishing through the contents of your handbag, you pulled out your house keys as you ran up the flight of stairs. 

Your apartment was a one bedroom, on the first floor, just below the roof, the ground floor occupied by your landlord. You slid in the key through the keyhole and turned it clockwise, until you heard the sound of a click. Pushing the door open, you stepped into the warm room, taking off your coat and letting it hang on the coat hanger by the door. The apartment was nothing to relish in, it had bland walls and the paint was chipping off just like the wall outside, the window frame was cracked and there was a tiny bed by the wall that croak like a frog when weight pressed to it. There was a small closet and a vanity, the mirror dirty and a single stove in a corner. 

You flung the closet open, your hand skimming through the contents of it. You didn’t own anything fancy so you just pulled out your off-white blouse and a brown skirt, laying it on the bed while your hands struggled to pull off the cotton dress that you were wearing. 

You threw your arms through the sleeves of the blouse, pulling it over your shoulders and hurriedly doing the buttons on it. You then moved on to the skirt, buttoning it at the waist. The only thing that was running through your mind was – you _needed_ the job. It was the _only_ way you could get close to the Shelby’s and get the revenge your heart ached for. 

You fell down on your knees next to the bed and pulled out a suitcase from underneath it, using your hand to swipe over the dust slightly and flung it open. Your fingers curled against the papers inside, the papers that contained all your references from where you had worked as a secretary in London before moving to Birmingham for Noel. You slid the suitcase back, pulling the bed cover back in its original place and stood up, dusting your knees. 

-

The clock struck noon as you found yourself standing outside the Garrison. You must have been a sight, standing there like a lost little lamb, clutching your papers to your chest when the door opened slowly and the manager of the pub, Harry, squinting his eyes to shield himself from the scorching sunlight that was directly falling over his face, stepped out. 

“Is Mr. Shelby in?” You asked, biting the insides of your cheeks: you weren't nervous but definitely, desperate. 

His lips opened partially and his hand flew up to his hair, running his fingers through them. He shook his head, “Are you here for the interview? If you are, then you are late.” 

“I am not! There wasn’t a time mentioned in the notice,” your frown widened and you bit your lip – wondering if there was actually one on the notice and in your excitement, you had missed it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t make the calls around here, they do,” the look in Harry’s eyes were apologetic but you knew he could do nothing to help, he was just another puppet that worked for Thomas Fuckin’ Shelby. _“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”_ You were barely audible in your little outburst. Your smile had faded; faster than a low quality cotton tshirt and you were sure that Harry had noticed the sparkle in your eyes fade with disappointment, but he was helpless. “I really needed this job,” you whispered, more to yourself rather than to him. Without waiting for him to respond, you turned back, still holding on tightly to your papers and started walking back in the direction you came from, missing the Garrison door open again for the second time and John Shelby walk out.

“Hey?!” A shout made you stop in your tracks and slowly turn to face them. 

“I thought you were lookin' for a job,” John’s voice reached your ears, more of a shout as you were standing almost twenty steps away from him. 

“I am, but it seems I missed the time written on the notice,” you shot back, your palm flying up to your forehead to shield your eyes from the rays of the sun.

“C’mon, I can squeeze you in, after all,” he said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips and your jaw almost dropped. All the lost sparkle was back in your eyes and forgetting you were in the middle of the street, you held your skirt with one hand and started running towards the Garrison again. 

-

“Ms. (L/N), Mr. Shelby will see you now,” Harry called out to you at the same time when you took a sip of the drink you were holding in your hand. You nodded, sliding off the stool at the bar, bringing the brim of the glass to your lips one last time and downing the contents of it in one go. You told yourself that the drink will calm your nerves, but much to your disappointment, you started feeling worse. 

You closed your eyes and hoped to yourself you didn’t give in to your rage when you saw _him_. 

You followed Harry quietly holding your papers against your chest as he walked towards the corner room in the pub where you knew you were about to face the man who haunted your dreams. You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump forming in your throat as you quietly followed him. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you watched the back of Harry’s head as he knocked on the door. Words were exchanged but you weren’t listening, you were in your own little world, your heart throbbing inside your chest, begging to be let off its leash. It was only when Harry placed his palm on your shoulder and nudged you that you were back into reality, “Go in, and please shut the door behind you.” 

You stepped into the corner room, suddenly realizing how tiny it was as compared to how it looked from the outside. It was tiny, but it was cozy. 

You finally saw them. John, although you had already met him, he seemed different when you actually saw them with the rest of his brothers. They all had sparkling blue irises , their caps hanging low over their heads. The one sitting to the extreme left, one that you assumed was the eldest, brought up his glass of whiskey to his lips, his other hand toying with his moustache as his eyes were fixed on you. You kept your eyes between him and John, not daring yourself to look at the third one – 

The third Shelby sat back against the chair, putting out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray as he looked at you, his gaze calculating and antagonizing. His eyes were blue too but you could see the hollowness in those eyes, a kind of a darkness reflecting in them. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you croaked, nervously toying with the fabric of your skirt as you felt all eyes on you. 

He nodded but didn’t reply, waiting for you to speak. You didn’t dare speak, or rather, you had lost your words. You placed your papers on the table and Thomas Shelby removed his gaze from you for a split second, his gaze now falling on your papers. Taking his own time, he took your papers in his hand, reading through the outlines here and there, before lifting his eyes and fixing them on you again.

“Why would someone like you leave London and come to a place like this?” His voice was sinful as he regarded you through his blue irises, occasionally rolling his eyes and fixing them at your papers, then back at you. He was calm but you knew how bad Thomas Shelby's calm was; it was like the calm before a storm.

“London’s expensive, couldn’t afford it,” you muttered, your mind acting like a fuse now, a fuse that refused to work properly and you mentally cursed yourself. You were making a fool of yourself. 

“With a job like that in London, you still couldn’t afford it? I find that hard to believe.” 

Your mind began to race and your cheeks felt hot, your face burning with a mix of rage and embarrassment. You couldn’t let him get to you. Not before you got to him first. 

“No matter what I told you, Mr. Shelby , you will always find it hard to believe. But, it’s the truth, what I told you,” you bit your lip, watching him. Thomas Shelby finally moved forward, placing his hand on the desk and pushed himself in a standing position. Arthur Shelby and John Shelby just looked from him to you, quietly spectating what was going on, occasionally taking a sip of their drinks. "Why do you think I left London?" You blurted out suddenly, surprised as to why you just asked that. 

Tommy Shelby didn't react, but his hands that were earlier crossed over his chest, now fell against his sides. You could see the bags under his eyes, as though he had had many sleepless nights. 

"I think you left London because someone knocked you up," he kept his expressions unreadable, except for a slight curve in his lips that indicated that he was smirking inwardly, watching you squirm in your place. Flustered, your hands clenched into fists by your side and you were now seething, gritting your teeth shut, fighting, _struggling_ to control the temper rising in you. Who the hell was he to determine what your life had been and why you had fled London? "He refused to marry you and your family shunned you out, calling you a whore," he said, stopping and taking a deep breath. 

You knew what he was doing, he was studying your temperament. Maybe this was some kind of a test for him, to see if how will react. 

You smiled then - a forced smile, and blinked.

"Are you also a fortune teller, Mr. Shelby, because you are really good, except for the fact that I got knocked up, the rest of it is true. My family shunned me away because the man I fell in love with wasn't a Protestant, like me." 

His eyebrow shot up, his expressions suddenly changing - you couldn't tell if he was angry, if you hadn't noticed the slight vein that had popped up over his eyebrow. 

"So, you lied, about not being able to afford it."

"I lied because I couldn't face any further humiliation," you said, clenching your fists in unease. 

"What happened to him? The Protestant you fell in love with?" He took a step closer, but stopped, just a few inches away from you, his eyes burning into you.

Your mouth fell open, your voice coming out more of a croak, something you mentally cursed yourself for, "he died in war."

The room was engulfed in an eerie silence. Thomas Shelby blinked in acknowledgement of your words and that's when you figured that he seldom spoke. This was his way of communicating, through actions and glares.

“How good are you with numbers?” He raised an eyebrow and you pushed out a breath that you were ignorantly holding in. 

“Fairly good, I would say.” 

He nodded and slowly walked over to you. You held your breath, your mind racing in your head. What was he doing? Was he going to kill you like he killed him? Your mind was shouting at you, to run, to scream, but your feet didn’t budge. You kept watching as he walked close to you, but only, walked out from your side and went up to the door that was behind you. He pulled open the door and you heard his footsteps get more and more soft, indicating that he was going away. 

“Is it over?” You couldn’t help wonder, as you looked at John. 

However before John could reply, the door opened again and you stiffened. Thomas Shelby walked up to the desk, by your side, placing a heavy looking file on it with a loud thud. You looked from him to John and then back to him. 

“We’ll see if what your papers say about you is really true,” he pulled out a cigarette and placed it to his lips, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he lit it. “Take a look.” 

You looked at him for a second and then walked up to the desk, your hand trembling slightly as you hovered your palm over the file. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing out blood and slowly, lowered yourself on a vacant stool by the desk. You could feel their eyes on you and it made you feel even more nervous and flustered than you already were. You placed your trembling hand on the cover and turned it open, your eyes scanning through the hand written account. There were figures and figures and you almost gasped. This was a lot, at least a lot for you – you just earned enough in London to be able to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly. 

Something, however, was not right. You scanned through the first page again, trying to comprehend what was wrong. 

Then you looked up, looking directly at Thomas Shelby. He was now leaning against the wall, smoking his cigarette watching you. 

“This isn’t right, the tally is completely wrong. The ledger’s don’t match,” you said, slamming the ledger shut, which you somehow hadn’t intended to do, but still did. 

You saw a look flash in his eyes; a look you knew was meant for his brothers, the kind of communication they often had. This made your stomach churn. Thomas Shelby pulled out the box of cigarettes from his breast pocket and flicked out a cigarette. He then threw out his hand towards you, the cigarette laying in his palm. You hesitated a little bit but finally ended up wrapping your fingers around it and lifting it up. The sound of a match lighting filled the room and you looked up to see him holding a lit match closer against your face. You brought your face closer, until the flame was lighting the cigarette end, burning bright golden as you inhaled. 

“Be at the office sharp at 9 AM tomorrow. John will help you out with how things work around here,” his gaze flicked to his brother and then back to you and your heart almost skipped a beat – due to excitement that maybe you were hired. It was as though he read your mind, “I haven’t hired you yet, I will let you know tomorrow.” 

You nodded your head and then he turned away from you. 

“You may leave now,” he pointed out, his voice low. You hurriedly grabbed your papers and bit your lip, flinging yourself out of the room, the door slamming shut behind you. 

You were immediately greeted by Harry when you stepped out. 

“What happened?” He asked in his thick baritone.

“They will perhaps, test me tomorrow – “ you said. 

“You were the first one out of the ten that were interviewed who was asked to report to their office. You must be talented,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“I don’t know, Harry, and neither do I fucking wish to know, all I know is, I need a fucking drink,” you hopped onto the stool and Harry smiled, disappearing to get you the drink you so desperately needed right now. 

You shuddered at the thought of him. 

Thomas Shelby was _terrifying_ – 

_Dark_ –

 _A fucking murderer_ – 

_But this meant, you were one step close to getting the revenge you desperately wanted._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such high hopes for this little ole book of mine, I can't even tell you. 
> 
> Anyway, here's bringing you the chapter 2. 
> 
> Happy read, folks.

**Chapter - 2**

The bed croak horrendously as you turned to your left, pulling your covers tighter over your frame. The room was engulfed in darkness; the only light coming in from the moon that shone directly above your broken window. 

Noel’s words rang through your mind, again and again – _“ No matter what happens, promise me you would stay here.. I will handle this.”_

_You had promised him you won’t but you had broken it; you had followed him once he had left your apartment. You had followed him until he turned left from the distillery round the corner and started walking towards the stables._

_A question kept gnawing at you like a rat, repeating again and again, this was the Peaky Blinders territory, why was Noel here? What did he want with them? What the fuck was going on? You didn’t understand. The only thing you knew was, you had to follow him, find out what the fucking matter was._

_You had seen him quietly disappear into the stable, making sure to pull the hat over his face to cover it. Why?_

_You bit your lip and ran, your feet flapping against the grassy terrain as you pushed yourself against the stable wall, pressing your ears to it, trying to listen. It was quiet, too quiet. You turned the other way round, tiptoeing to the back of the stables until you reached the back entrance to it. You stepped inside, gliding on your feet, as gently as you could, not wanting to alert anyone of your presence._

_Your eyes fell on your boyfriend. He was standing in the center of the stable, his hat now off and in his hand. He had his back turned towards you. Your lips parted and your mouth fell open; you were about to call him out when suddenly, you heard the sound of the engine of a motor outside._

_The Peaky Blinders were here._

_You knew it._

_You haphazardly looked around, frantically searching for a hiding spot – until you found a crate stacked with hay on top of it, inches away from you. Falling to your knees, you crawled on your fours and reached the crate. You pushed yourself behind it; as much as the space could allow you to squeeze yourself into. Your heart was beating so fast, you were afraid you were going to have a heart attack. You looked on, through the tiny opening from where the crate had been splintered into two._

_You could clearly see the Peaky Blinders as they stormed in, walking straight towards your boyfriend, who was facing them now._

_“You have the fuckin' balls to show up here after whatever happened.” You could see him, the leader of the Peaky Blinders, a man called Thomas Shelby. You had only heard of him before, heard what kind of a sick, twisted fuck he was. The more you looked at him, the more terrified he made you feel. He stood, his shoulders held high, his hands burrowed in his trouser pockets._

_“Mr. Shelby, there’s been a misunderstanding –“_

_You looked on, holding your breath, listening to the words being spoken._

_The only thing your mind could place was that maybe, Noel had made a business deal with this gang and now, they were after him. You were disgusted and utterly disappointed, Noel wasn’t the kind of man dealing with gangsters._

_You will give him a piece of your mind once you were back home._

_When you were back home –_

_If you were back home –_

_“A misunderstanding, you say? She says otherwise,” Thomas Shelby didn’t move, he was standing like a statue, his blinder hat hanging low over his head. You kept watching, hoping this will end when suddenly, Thomas pulled out his hand from his pocket and you saw what he was going to do – you saw something metallic glistening in his hand._

_Your mouth fell open and you tried to scream, but words failed and all that came out was a weak sounding cry, so low, it was hardly audible to you. You helplessly watched as Thomas Shelby pulled the gun to your boyfriend’s face. It was all a slow motion for you, even though it would have taken seconds for him to do that._

_Suddenly, there was a loud bang, causing you to involuntarily squeeze your eyes shut, a stray tear sliding down your cheek. A few seconds passed and finally, you mustered the courage to look. You blinked your eyes open, cloudy from the tears that had now formed in them and you saw him standing with the gun still raised in the air, smoke bellowing out of its barrel._

_Your boyfriend was laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, his head ripped to shreds._

_You pressed your palm tight to your mouth, suppressing the scream that had formed in your throat._

_You didn’t want to die._

_You waited, and waited, minutes seemed to drag on like hours, until the Shelby’s finally left, the sound of the engines of their motors slowly moving away. You crawled out from behind the crate, sobbing now as you dragged yourself to the corpse that was once the man you loved. You fell next to him, screaming, pulling your own hair, your mind suddenly disoriented and your body ten times weaker._

_He was dead._

_You were alone in Birmingham – and somewhere, in this city, the men who killed him would now be celebrating._

You sat up in bed, during the dead of the night, your body covered in sweat. Your hands moved themselves through your hair, your head hung low as you tried to calm your aching heart. 

Three months, but it still felt like it was yesterday. 

You slid out of bed, finding your way through the darkness, your toe stubbing twice against the furniture until you were standing by the broken window, holding the box of cigarettes in your trembling hand. The question was haunting you – had you taken on more than you could chew? How were you supposed to be under the same roof as that monster without wanting to empty your bullets into his skull, just like he had done to Noel? You took a sharp breath and flicked the cigarette between your lips, lighting the match and bringing it to the end of your cigarette.

The clock struck 3 AM and you knew you fucking needed to sleep. You had to be at work at 9 AM. You couldn’t risk being late; you weren’t really hired yet. Stubbing your cigarette butt into the ashtray, you made your way back to your bed, the bed creaking as you sat down by its edge and slowly, laid down, your eyes wide open. 

It wasn’t until another hour or so when exhaustion finally took over you and you fell asleep. 

-

Although you did manage to wake up thirty minutes prior to the time you were supposed to report to the Shelby’s, you were very cranky and irritable, owing to the fact that your thoughts had not let you get a good night’s sleep. You had taken a quick shower and got dressed up in a blouse and a skirt, pulling your coat over and grabbing your handbag, you had locked your apartment and made your way to the Shelby’s. 

As you walked down the familiar road, the one that you will probably have to frequent more often now; you couldn’t erase Thomas Shelby’s cold gaze from your mind. It was etched into your mind with a permanent ink, you could see him looking at you through the corner of his eyes, piercing, trying to get a look into your soul. Your mind wandered to what Harry had told you; that you had been the first one out of the ten that he had interviewed; to be actually given a chance to prove yourself. You really doubted if those girls were less talented than you were. It kept nagging you, why did Thomas Shelby reject them? And what was it that he was looking for, to hire someone? 

You were so overcome by your heavy thoughts, you didn’t realize that you were standing at the door of the Shelby Home & Betting Shop. You swallowed the bile that had formed in your throat and your fingers grabbed on to the cigarette box in your coat pocket. Fixing yourself by the entrance, you pulled out a stick and pinned it between your lips, struggling to get it to light. Every single time you tried, a gush of the wind would blow it off and groaning in frustration, you would have to drop it and try again. You were on your fourth matchstick when the door to the Shelby house opened and you stiffened. 

You didn’t need to look at him to know who he was; it was as though the air changed when he was in the same vicinity as you. You knew. 

He didn’t see you at first; he was too engrossed in trying to light his cigarette but when he turned towards his left, he saw you standing by the door, your back pressed against the wall of their front entrance, an unlit cigarette still pressed between your lips. He kept looking at you, and you met his gaze – his eyes were red and swollen. Without a word, he brought the lit matchstick closer to your face and you bent your neck slightly, bringing the end of your unlit cigarette to the light he was holding, your eyes still on him. The only difference was that he wasn’t looking at you now. 

Your eyes were on him; only because the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of the hate you harbored for him. No, this wasn’t the hate that is when love goes into reverse. Your hate was different, and this made you smile, the corner of your lips turning into a sly smile as you watched him stand next to you, staring at the distant silhouettes of the buildings, smoking his own cigarette. You were smiling, mentally speaking to him, as though he could hear every word you were saying to him. 

_“.. Thomas Shelby, this is war. I won’t rest until you’re beaten, until you’re dead. You cannot hide, I will find you and I will destroy you. I will destroy everything you’ve ever worked for; just like you ruined my life. If I am cursed to be alone, then I will make sure that when you take your last breaths, you will be alone. Your pretty blue eyes will look up at me, begging for forgiveness but you will not have it.”_

You vanquished the last of your thoughts as you took the last drag of your cigarette and dropped it to the ground, stepping on it with your heel. Neither of you spoke, but you knew he was noticing every single movement of yours. You turned your head slightly towards him and lowered your head, “Mr. Shelby,” you greeted him curtly before moving past him and placing your hand on the door ready to get in. 

Before you could pull the door open, you felt a sturdy grip on your arm and you were pulled back with a force, back to stand in front of him. Your eyes widened in shock and his grip over your hand loosened, his arms folding in a cross over his chest. His blue eyes pierced into your own and a strange tingly sensation washed over you. 

“You’ve been aching to ask me a question, Ms. (L/N). How long are you going to hold on to that?” He kept a straight face. 

“I don’t want to overstep, Mr. Shelby,” you bit your lip, nervously, your hand involuntarily flying up and running through your hair, your index finger curling a strand around it. 

“Good that you know your position, it will come in handy around here. Now, before you go inside, there are some things you need to take care about. First –“ Tommy suddenly fell quiet and he flicked his head to make sure that the door was locked, making you narrow your eyes at him, “ – you will not make talks with anyone inside unless you are asked to. Is that clear?” 

You nodded, “Yes, Mr. Shelby.” 

“Mr. Shelby, _what_?” He hissed, through his lips. 

Internally, you scoffed. _The nerve of him._

“Mr. Shelby, you haven’t hired me yet, _sir_ ,” your every word was laced with heavy sarcasm, making you think how mad you had probably made him. But much to your chagrin, Tommy Shelby seemed unfazed, rather, he seemed amused. You could see a ghost of a smirk threatening to break across his chiseled jaw. He parted his lips and spoke again, “Second, if you have any doubt, work-related, you may approach John.” 

“Got it, Mr. Shelby, _sir_ ,” you let out a breath and nodded. 

Tommy didn’t say anything else, he just used his hand gesture, throwing out his palm towards the door, indicating you to leave him be and go in. You nodded and turned away, placing your hand on the doorknob and slowly pulled it outwards. You stepped in, closing the door behind you. 

You were immediately greeted by the sight of men spread all over – there were shouts and curses occasionally, or a loud guffaw by someone but nobody did as to even turn and look at you. It was as though you were invisible. The only person that you found looking at you was the youngest Shelby – he had a faint smile on his face and his hand flew to his cap. He removed it and holding it by his side, he walked over to you. 

“Mornin’, (Y/N), you made it,” he chuckled, “Come on, let’s start before Tommy’s back,” you nodded and clenched your fingers nervously against the fabric of your skirt, keeping your eye fixed on the youngest Shelby as he turned around and walked towards the first booth on the left. He pushed open the glass door and stepped inside, with you on his tail. The minute you stepped in, you were greeted by a strong smell of tobacco and smoke. Your eyes scanned the booth – it was tiny, just big enough to fit two people in at the same time. On one side was a metal cabinet with drawers in it. There was a desk and two chairs on the adjacent edges; that’s it. On top of the table, an overflowing ashtray lay, next to a few heavy looking files that you knew were kept there for you. 

“These are all the ledgers that you need to take care of. The expenses, the profits, this one is the loans – “ he tapped on a yellow colored file and you nodded, carefully listening to each and every word the Shelby said.

“What is it that I exactly have to do, Mr. Shelby?” you asked. 

“Well, you need to first check the accuracy of each of these files. Apart from that, you just have to maintain all the three.” 

“Got it,” you nodded and John gave you a weak smile. He then stood up and almost stretched his arms, you could see that he was overworked. 

“If you need me, I’ll be in the next room. Yeah?” He looked down at you. “Do you have any questions?” 

You nodded. 

“Harry told me that Mr. Shelby rejected ten applicants before me. I am confused, why was I not rejected?” You said, weakly. 

“What goes on in his bloody mind, I cannot say. But there’s a thing, none of those girls before you lasted in there for more than five fucking minutes. You lasted fifteen,” he hunched forward, placing his palms on the table in front of you, looking down at you with a reassuring smile on his face. 

_John Shelby couldn’t be a monster; maybe he was helpless. He was being kind to you right now._ You mentally cursed yourself for letting him get to you. _They were all the fucking same; all of the Shelby’s. They had no heart._ Composing yourself, you gave him a fake smile. “I don’t even know if I am hired, yet, “words tumbled out of your mouth.

“If he doesn’t hire you after all this, well, l'll be fucking pissed off. Our accounts are all bloody messed up. We don’t even know half the expenses that were made to be honest,” he let out a chuckle and walked up to the cabinet, opening the topmost drawer and pulling out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He poured some into the glass and curled his fingers around it, lifting it up and placing it to his lips. 

“This job’s not gonna be a cake walk, is it then?” you said, rising from your chair, using your palm to support yourself. 

“Miss (L/N), it will be good to remember that nothing is a cake walk if you are working for the Peaky Blinders,” his previous joking mannerisms had vanished in that one single sentence. He placed the glass to his lips and downed the drink in one go, placing it back in the drawer. He turned to give you a do over one last time before the glass door opened and he was out of there, you left there alone with the files. 

-

You craned your sore neck to the window next to you and that’s when you realized it was already dark. You were so engrossed in your work; you hadn’t had lunch. Your first day had been very progressive though – you had managed to rectify all the errors in the expenses file, highlighting a few expenses that didn’t have a name to it, something you will have to talk to John about later. 

The clock struck 6 pm and you slowly stood up from the chair you had been sitting at for the past few hours and stretched your arms in the air. The booth had a glass door, which meant that you had an easy view of what was going on outside and likewise, they could see you from the outside as you worked inside. You could see the back of Thomas Shelby, he was standing with his back turned towards you, addressing the flock of men, his lit cigarette in his right hand and his left hand on his hip. You could see John and Arthur Shelby leaning by the wall, listening to what Tommy was speaking about, their eyes fixed on him. 

The next minute, the men that were working earlier started to stand up and slowly disperse, the office getting quieter and quieter each passing second. You weren’t so sure what were you supposed to do – Tommy still hadn’t told you whether you were hired or not. This was, however, the last thing you were thinking of right now. You were exhausted – you had been working nonstop since the morning, on an almost empty stomach – the only thing you had was an apple that you had stuffed into your handbag – not because you were forced to do it, but because you didn’t want to get out of this booth and face the Shelby’s. 

Your empty stomach was growling now; your palm flew out to your lips, shielding a massive yawn that overtook you. Finally mustering what little strength, _and courage_ that you had, you stepped out through the glass door. It was quiet, you could hear Thomas Shelby in one of the other booths, talking to his brothers. A few men still circled around you, working. You quietly made your way to a corner where you had earlier spotted a tea kettle on your way out. Lucky for you, someone had, perhaps, made some tea a few minutes back, leaving almost a cup of it in the pot. Taking a cup, you poured yourself the left over tea, curling your finger around the cup and lifting it. 

You fixed yourself by the wall, leaning against it, watching the entire parlor in front of you. No one saw you, or even if they did, they pretended not to notice you. This was frustrating, but yet, it was relieving. You didn’t have to constantly worry about being mistreated – which was ironical given the fact that you were at the Shelby betting room. 

Unknowingly, the more you indulged yourself in the tea you drank, the more you found your shoulders relax after having had a long ,tiring day. Unknowingly, you started humming a soft tune. It started as a humming at first, slow and melodious, just for your own ears to enjoy. Within minutes, however, you had forgotten where you were and your voice rolled over the parlor in waves of sad symphony. Even without music, your voice was beautiful, _mesmerizing_ yet at the same time, it was haunting, enough to bring out a fit of rage and pain inside the one who listened to it. 

You were so lost in yourself; curled by the wall in a corner, with a hand on your heart, belting out the high notes, you didn’t notice the door of the booth opening. The hushed whispers of the men died down and the parlor suddenly went quiet, making you suddenly realize what you were doing. You abruptly stopped singing, your cheeks turning crimson red as you saw eyes looking at you from all sides. 

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. 

Stood in the doorway of the booth was Thomas Shelby, his hands held up against the doorframe on either of his sides. 

He was glaring at you, his glare intense, without a trace of an expression on his face. By looking at him, you couldn’t tell how angry he was, but deep down, you felt it. He was pissed. The way he was looking at you, you had never seen it before, it scared the shit out of you. 

Suddenly he was striding in your direction, his lips pressed into a firm line. 

Your eyes moved from him to John, he held an apologetic expression on his face, like he knew that you had messed up and something bad was coming your way. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Your gaze was yanked back to Thomas Shelby, who was standing at your face now. 

You gulped, unable to make yourself maintain an eye contact with him. Your fingers clenched tighter against your side and you forced yourself to revisit the day you saw him murder your boyfriend, cold-blooded. Anger gushed through your insides, like a canal and you pursed your lips tighter your eyes shining with rage. 

“Not a fan of jazz, are you?” your raging eyes met his, it was like a magnetic pull. You could see yourself in those eyes, the same anger that you had, the dangerous one, the kind of anger that you choose to keep inside of you, the one that bursts so horribly, it destroys everything that is around you. You saw it right there in his eyes, something he could not hide. 

“No singing anywhere around here, you hear me?” His voice was a warning, it raised the hair behind your neck. You don’t know what came over you; you knew it wouldn’t be well with you to push his buttons right now. You nodded and bit your lip. 

“No singing,” you repeated after him. He went back to being cold and expressionless, as though a switch had been flipped inside of him. He gave you one last look and turned away; taking a few steps and then abruptly stopping. You kept looking at the back of his head, wondering if he will say something, which he did. 

“Be here daily at 9 am sharp. Pay is twenty shillings an hour. Registers are to be maintained daily, it doesn’t matter who is making what expense. Every transaction is to be recorded – “ he slowly turned to face you and you nodded, trying to take in his words. “ – And you don’t stay a minute over six and it starts getting dark. You may leave as soon as the clock strikes six. Any questions?” He raised an eyebrow. 

You shook your head, “No.” 

“No, _what_?” his _what_ sounded dangerous, deadly. 

“No, sir,” you hurriedly added, gritting your teeth together. You wanted nothing that instant than to wrap your palms around his neck and choke him. Nothing would please you more, but you told yourself, it won’t be long before that day would finally be here. 

You turned around, grabbing your handbag that lay by the tea kettle, pulling it over your shoulders. Grabbing your coat, you thrust your arms through it and wore it over your blouse and skirt, pulling your hair out through the back. You stepped out onto the street, immediately greeted by the Birmingham chill, making you wrap your hands around your body to warm yourself. 

Thomas Shelby stood by the closed door, listening to your footsteps, your heels clicking against the gravel, getting less and less prominent as you walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes Chapter - 3, 
> 
> Original character alert. 
> 
> Things are hopefully going to get more and more interesting now. 
> 
> Happy read, folks.

A week into working with the Shelby’s, you’d learnt a few things; not to cross Thomas Shelby’s path unless it was a death situation. And so you didn't. You managed to keep yourself engrossed in work as much as you could, only to get out of your booth to eat and to get a drink. 

It worked, more so because Thomas Shelby wasn’t much at the office these days, which you didn’t know why, though your curiosity did strike at odd hours, making you want to know his whereabouts.

It was around 2 at noon when you stood by the window in the parlor with a cigarette in your hand and Polly Gray walked past you, muttering something to herself under her breath. You had only talked to her once, it immediately etching into your mind, the overbearing mother figure that Polly Gray was – she lived on one principle – her family was everything for her and she’d do anything for them. As the days passed, you had grown to develop an understanding towards this principle of Polly Gray – you had started thinking how similar you both were, how family meant everything to you both, your only family being the man that you had seen so ruthlessly murdered, right in front of your eyes.

“You okay, Pol?” You called out, still standing by the window, taking a puff of your cigarette, tapping it lightly, the ashes falling into the ashtray. She paused as though she had forgotten something and turned to look at you, you could see lines of worry etched to her forehead. No matter how stressed she was, she still always donned on a mask of a fake smile, even when she was in the worst of moods, “Afternoon, love , good to see you outside the booth for once, I was worried you’ll bloody starve yourself to death,” she gave you the slightest of the smiles; but this one felt real. 

You were almost ready to forgive Polly Gray, because she had nothing to do with your boyfriend’s death, but sometimes, you felt as though the Shelby’s were brushing off on you. You were slowly weakening in your resolve and you were getting soft, when all you should have thought about was how you would take the revenge that was rightfully yours. 

“I wasn’t hungry – “ you lied, pursing your lips together and watching her from the corner of your doe like eyes. Suddenly, you didn’t know what came over you. You found yourself reaching out to her, slowly placing your palm on her wrist and pulling it towards you. This surprised Polly, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “Somethin’ is bothering you, Polly. I can see it in your eyes,” you whispered, genuinely. 

You saw her expressions change, a bit of sadness flashing in her eyes for a split second, making her look like a vulnerable human, and not one of them. “Every fuckin time the boys are out there, doing a deal, I’m out here, all worried about them – “ You could see that her lower lip was trembling and she was trying hard to suppress a sob that was probably lodged inside her throat. “ – I’m tired of the times I’ve watched Arthur walk through the damn door, all bloody and unable to even fucking walk straight or Tommy –“ she paused for a bit and pulled out a chair, slowly sinking into it. You walked up to her, unsure if she needed you to console her or she just wanted you to listen. Instead, you decided to get her a cup of tea. You walked up to the kettle in the corner and put the water on boil, listening to her speak on, “ – Do you know we almost lost Tommy once?” 

You turned sharply towards her, not budging from where you were and softly shook your head. 

“Billy fucking Kimber bloody shot him right through his chest, but that boy is a fucking warrior,” she said, her voice reduced to a mere whisper. You pulled the kettle off the stove and poured some tea into a cup for her. Placing it into a tray, you walked up to her and gently put it down on the table, pulling up a chair and sliding into it. 

“You should drink that Pol, it calms the nerves,” you took her hand in yours for a second and squeezed it. She nodded and reached for the cup of tea, lifting it in her fingers and bringing it up to her lips. She took a sip and placed the cup back on the table, composing herself and sitting up straighter, her piercing gaze now fixed on you, “Did it ever cross your mind what the Peaky Blinders were? The work that the Peaky Blinders did? Who were the Peaky Blinders?” 

You bit your lip, wondering what she wanted to know in disguise of her question. 

“Most of Birmingham knows the Peaky Blinders, Pol, me included. I've heard people tell their children stories of the Peaky Blinders, how dangerous they fucking are, just to get them to bloody sleep at night.” 

Polly kept a straight face, arching forward, placing her elbows on the table, “Yet, you readily chose to work for Thomas Shelby, knowing what kind of people you were getting yourself into,” her voice suddenly turned sour and you could sense the danger that had suddenly gotten into the atmosphere. Was she onto you? Did she suspect you? 

“Who are you, (Y/N)? You may fool them, even Tommy, but you cannot fool me.” Polly simply said, her brows furrowed. You swallowed the bile; staring at her in slight horror, while she stared back at you with suspicion in her eyes. No, this couldn't be happening. Polly Gray was starting to prove to be a roadblock for you. 

“Pol, I – “ Words stopped at your throat and you had no idea what to say. You took a deep breath, your hands rubbing unknowingly against the fabric of your skirt, under the table,“What would you do Pol, if you were in my place? What would you do if you stepped off a train from London with nothing on you but a bag full of old clothes, not a single penny in your pocket with no place to go? I had no family here in Birmingham. My parents threw me out. I took the first train from London, by luck, it was for Birmingham," you said, tonguing the insides of your mouth, trying to moisten your throat that suddenly felt parched and dry, "The last thing I thought of was what I was getting myself into. I just wanted a job, a steady pay; so I could bloody sustain myself, then I saw the notice, it was as though a door had opened up for me. I was ready to take anything, as long as it paid, Pol,” you realized how badly you were shaking now. Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes and you forced yourself to look away from Polly's questioning glances. You wanted to scoff and even throw your head back and laugh, not at her but at yourself, for being so naïve as to think you could pull this off, fooling the Shelby's. 

You were weak.

But you didn’t laugh. You stayed silent, your head hanging low, your gaze fixed on your lap as your fingers nervously fiddled with each other. 

Polly finally let out a sigh, giving up on her interrogative questions and she lifted the cup in her hand, bringing it to her lips, sitting back more comfortably. She took a sip and placed it down, parting her lips, “I didn't mean to make you feel bad or scratch your old wounds, love. I just have to be cautious, I love them too much to watch them fail. I love them like my own," you saw Polly stare into the air above, for a minute, lost in her own thoughts until she was back and looking at you again, the earlier suspicion now gone, replaced by her warm and gentle eyes. 

You nodded and gave her a ghost of a smile. 

“After what Tommy’s been through, what we all have been through, the fucking backstabbing, I have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

You shuffled in your chair, in a desperate attempt to sit more comfortably, thousands of thoughts running through your mind. Your mind had already begun to place two and two together – Ofcourse, Tommy Shelby being apprehensive and very cautious about hiring an employee; ofcourse, he had trust issues because he had already been stabbed in the back once. Tommy Shelby had probably gotten his heart broken, the reason why it was difficult for him to place his trust in any woman. Now Polly had confirmed it for you. 

You opened your mouth, ready to ask her more when the clock behind you struck six and Tommy’s words started running at the back of your mind – you won’t stay a minute over six. You stood up, your chair pushing back slightly, with a creak as it grazed against the wooden floor. Polly looked up at you; you noticed a faint smile playing on her lips. 

“I will see you tomorrow, Pol. You take care of yourself and stop worrying,” you whispered, hoping to reassure her, at the same time as you made your way to the coat hanger to get your coat. 

“I’ll be fine, love. You be careful out there. You don’t know the dangers lurkin' around at this bloody hour. If John was here, he would have walked you home,” she said. 

“Don’t worry about me, Pol, it’s almost a five minute walk. I’ll be alright,” you slid your hands through your coat sleeves and nodded once, tightening your grip over the doorknob. You pulled open the door and stepped out into the chilly evening, pulling your coat tighter against your body. 

\- 

Two days passed and Polly's subtle accusation still hit you. You couldn't afford to have Polly at your tail since you still had a long way to go. You still hadn't heard from the Shelby brothers, it had been a week you had last seen them and this made you even more curious. In the absence of Thomas, it was Polly that would frequent the Shelby betting room and ensure that all the work was being carried out the way it was supposed to, today being another day like the usual. 

You counted the cash in the bag, scribbling down your calculation in the Shelby ledger, sliding the cash into the bag again and standing up from your chair. Holding the bag in your hands, you stepped out of the booth, your gaze rolling all over the parlor, looking for her. When you entered the parlor, you spotted her sitting by the table, sipping on piping hot tea, a cigarette in her other hand. 

"You're still here, love, it's past six," her eyebrows shot up and you looked down at the bag that you were holding, gently placing it on the table in front of her. 

"I wanted to get this done before going back home," you replied back, to which she just nodded. 

You nodded at her and slowly turned around, making your way towards the coat hanger to get your coat when the door flung open and your head turned sharply towards it. Thomas Shelby strode in, his face coated in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. You could see the lines of worry etched to his face and his eyes that had a deadly fire to them. He didn't acknowledge you; or Polly. Like a raging bull, he was speed walking to the table and once there, he slammed his palm hard against the table in the center, the cup of Polly's tea spilling all over the table. 

_"For fucks sake,"_ Tommy spat, pulling out a chair with a clutter and pushed himself down on it. Polly's eyes flew from him to you and you nodded, understanding what she wanted, privacy . 

You excused yourself politely and turned towards the door hurrying over to where your coat was hanging, you didn't want to get into Tommy's unnecessary line of spit fire anyway. 

You had only picked up your coat when his voice called out to you from behind. 

"You're staying, I need to speak to you." 

You paused at his words and slowly turned around, looking at him, confused if he was really speaking to you. His eyes were, however, on you. Dropping your coat back, with slow steps, you walked back to where he was and fixed yourself next to Polly's chair, looking at him. 

You could see that Tommy was seething. He ran his hand through his face, frustrated and suddenly, he was up on his feet, pacing all around the room. 

"Tommy, will you bloody speak? You have us all worried here," Polly leaned forward, the spilt tea now laying forgotten on the table. 

"We're _fucked_ , that's what's happened," Arthur's voice rang through the room, as he strode over to where Tommy was, John's arm wrapped around his neck, glaring at him. John was badly beaten up, his face was bloody and his eyes were swollen, his shirt almost ripped to shreds. Polly immediately got up and rushed to where John was dropped into a chair by Arthur, kneeling down in front of him. Arthur angrily pulled off the cap from his head and hurled it to the floor, muttering faint curses under his breath. 

"I'll get the washbasin and a cloth," you said, in a low voice. You ran into the Shelby kitchen, warming some water in a container and carried the washbasin and the cloth to the table, placing it there. Polly dipped the cloth into the water, scrubbing John's battered face, but her ears were on Tommy.

"We fucking left them there, the Peaky Blinders; we fucking ran, like cowards, trying to bloody save our own arses," Arthur spat. 

"What did you have in mind then? Wage a war against them? Two for their thirty bloody men? They would have fucking killed us all." Tommy glared at his brother who just shook his head, curling his fingers into a fist.

"Left who where? What the fuck is going on, Tommy?" Polly stood up, the bloody cloth still in her hand. John looked better now. You walked up to him and knelt down in front of him, your hands on his knees.

"Are you going to bloody tell them or should I?" Arthur looked at Tommy. 

In that moment, Tommy's eyes flew to yours, fixing on you and you felt you saw something in them – a look of helplessness, a look of pure distress, a look that told you that he was beaten, he had lost and he had no idea how pull himself out of this mess. You briefly closed your eyes shut, thinking of how watching him so broken made you feel ecstatic – _only, you didn't feel anything, no matter how you tried._

You opened your eyes again, looking into his blue irises once again, when he finally parted his lips and a sigh escaped his lips. He placed his elbows on the table in front of him and leaned forward, pressing the weight of his body to it as he spoke, his voice low, " _Fuckin'_ Edmund Moore," 

"What did he do now?" Polly arched her body forward, her eyes surging with a sudden anger, making you look from Polly to Tommy and then back to her again. You'd only heard about Edmund Moore, a gang that had replaced Billy Kimber's. 

"They have Ada, and Karl," he said, in a low voice, his eyes slightly lowered, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

"They bloody what?" Polly strode towards her nephew , anger dripping off her as she walked. She grabbed Tommy's arm and roughly yanked him towards her, making him face her. 

" The fucking deal went wrong, they somehow got a hold of Ada – " Tommy stood up abruptly and his head sharply turned towards you, "Get me a drink," he said to you. You quickly turned to your feet, making your way to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a glass, filling it up with whiskey while your eyes were fixed on him. 

"How did they find Ada? Where she lives? Only I know that." Polly was standing up now, glaring at Tommy. Tommy had gotten his answer. He slammed his fist hard into the table and Polly stepped back, wrapping her arms around her upper body, a sob escaping her lips. "They must have fucking _followed_ you when you went to see her." His voice was dark, terrifying , making you swallow the lump forming in your throat. This was the side that Tommy Shelby seldom showed the world, but here it was, right in front of your eyes. 

You lifted the glass up in your hand and quietly walked up to him, handing him the glass. He didn't look at you, he just took the glass and immediately placed it to his lips, downing the contents of it in one go. 

This gave you a moment to run up to where Polly had now fallen on her knees, her sobs now turned to full crying. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her to you. "Sssh, Pol, it's going to be alright," you whispered against her ears as she cried into your shoulder. 

You didn't lie to yourself this time, you thought you hated Polly Gray, because she was one of them; but the truth was, this didn't make you happy. You were hurting too. 

Ada didn't deserve this and so didn't little Karl.

"Crying won't do any good now, would it?" Tommy spat, forcing you to glare at how insensitive he was being. 

You helped Polly up to her feet and she walked slowly to where John was, who looked a little better now and was listening, momentarily wincing when pain shot through his body as he tried to move. 

"Do you intend to get her back?" Polly whispered, weakly. 

"They will hand her over, her and Karl, but they want something in return." Tommy walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, fixing himself on it, his eyes moving around in circles, from Polly to Arthur and John. You stood leaning by the wall, watching, studying Tommy's face when he suddenly looked up at you, forcing you to look away. 

"There's a mansion in the country, in Warwickshire, they call it the Arrowe House, its a fucking palace, Moore wants it." 

"Then what are you bloody waiting for? Buy the mansion. Give the fucking man what he wants." Polly screamed. 

"It's not so simple," Tommy sat back, his back brushing against the back of the chair. "The owner is a businessman who lives in London. He refuses to sell the mansion to gangs like us, no matter how much money we're ready to throw on his face, Moore has already tried. And they have the coppers backing them, if we even try to fucking threaten them, the coppers will be onto us." 

"Jesus." You whispered, barely audible. 

Tommy suddenly stood up, quicker than how he had sat down, minutes back and pulled out a cigarette, flicking it to his lips. 

"There's one way though. It's worth a try," he said, his eyes on you. 

Suddenly, you felt uneasy, when all eyes turned towards you. You shuffled the weight of your body from one foot to another, looking at him. 

"Can I help?" 

Tommy blinked at you, not answering and turned to face the others. 

"We have to go to London. Mr. Burke, the owner, doesn't know the Peaky Blinders, and even if he does, he doesn't know me by face." 

"What are you bloody thinking?" Arthur asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. 

"I will pretend to be a businessman, and she will pretend to be my wife." Tommy finally turned towards you and you felt your face turn white. 

_Was he fucking kidding?_

"I will up your pay if you agree to do this, Ms (L/N). Thirty shillings an hour. All you have to do is pretend, I'm sure you must be good at that." He kept his face neutral; making you wonder how it was even possible for him to act like nothing had happened, even when the world around him had turned upside down. 

"I – I don't know, Mr. Shelby, I – this is not what I signed up for," you stammered, taking a step backwards. 

"I know, I'm sorry." He said, his voice so low, barely audible, but nevertheless , you heard it. 

_Thomas Fuckin Shelby just said sorry._

You closed your eyes, feeling a sudden whizzing in your mind. You reached out and grabbed the wall with your hand to steady yourself. Your feet felt like jelly; unable to hold you any longer. Image of Ada and Karl flashed in your mind, smiling but soon, that image was replaced by Thomas Shelby, shooting a bullet through Noel's skull.

Your mind was fighting; fighting with itself. On one side, you wanted nothing else but to watch Thomas Shelby fall. Yet, this is not you wanted it to happen. Not through Ada or Karl. 

You flung open your eyes and with a finality in your voice, you stepped towards them, grabbing the back of the chair as you looked into Tommy's blue eyes. 

"I'll do it, Mr. Shelby."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt the sexual tension writing this. Oh, dear.
> 
> Well, enjoy. 
> 
> Things are just starting to get better now.

You looked at the set of clothes that Polly had laid out for you; these were different from the kind of outfits you wore, those being simple blouses and skirts. Polly had laid out for you countless dresses and evening gowns, shawls, fedoras and things you couldn’t even name and this was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. “C'mon, Pol, what’s wrong with my clothes? Looking at these, I’ve already started regretting agreeing to do it,” you sighed, your hand brushing over a fabric of a pale pink suit set with a matching fedora. 

“I’ll be blunt as a bloody knife, (Y/N) –“ Polly Gray slammed her closet door shut as she pulled out a trunk from underneath her bed, as she continued speaking, “ – you need to look like Tommy’s wife and wearing what you’re already wearing, I doubt it will make a good impression.”

“ _Right_ ,” you said, the word dripping with sarcasm as you finally selected a few of the outfits from the lot that Polly had given you and dumped it into the trunk that Polly had taken out. You grabbed the handle of the trunk and started pulling it off her bed when Polly grabbed your hand, “Don’t bother, love. I’ll have someone send it over your apartment later.” 

You nodded, giving her a ghost of a smile, straightening the pleat of your skirt. You blinked and cleared your throat, running your hand absent-mindedly through your hair, “Well, I’m off for the day, Pol. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Need to make the most of tonight and get the beauty sleep I really bloody need,” you ended up grinning along with Polly to your words and she nodded, waving you with her hand as you left her bedroom and started walking towards the exit of the Shelby’s house. 

You grabbed your coat and slid into it, placing your hand on the doorknob when you heard someone clearing his throat next to you. Your hand flew to your chest involuntarily, a sudden crippling fear gripping you as you turned your head towards the sound. To your right, hidden by the darkness of the room, you saw a silhouette, the only thing visible was the black outline of someone standing and the unmistakable golden light of someone's cigarette. 

"You _fucking_ scared the shit out of me, Mr. Shelby," you croak, watching him finally step out into your vision from the darkness, taking a drag of his cigarette. You could see the stress on his face, making him look twice the age he looked before this incident had happened, his eyes looked swollen and puffy, bags circling the skin under his eyes. He kept his expressions unreadable. 

"I'll walk you home," he said, in a low voice. 

You protested at first, "Mr. Shelby, I'll be fine. You don't need to." 

"I want to walk you through what my expectations are of you, Ms. (L/N)." This time, he didn't wait to even listen to your reply. He had already turned towards the door, pulled it open, waiting for you to step out first. You stepped out reluctantly, the sound of his footsteps behind you audible to your ears. 

The next minute, Tommy Shelby and you were walking down the street, side by side. He strode with his hands in his pockets, his Blinder cap fixed on top of his head, his cigarette between his lips. An uneasy silence had you both wrapped in a cocoon, making you feel slightly uncomfortable. 

"What can I expect tomorrow?" You abruptly turned your face towards him, your feet not breaking the pace that you both had. 

"That's the thing, that I have been meaning to talk to you about," Tommy began. You couldn't help but feel that something was off in his tone, the confident man, the man that only gave orders, he was sounding apprehensive and a bit, hesitant. Your frown widened and you instinctively pulled your coat closer to your frame. "I don't _bloody_ know what is going to happen tomorrow. And you deserve to know the truth, things might not go the way they're planned, things might go bloody wrong tomorrow. And I don't want you to agree if you don't want to," 

You took a sharp breath. 

_He was giving you a way out, he was giving you chance to back out. When he could have used force on you or threatened you to do it._

You mentally cursed yourself for letting yourself feel this way. Were you forgetting who this man was and what he was capable of? 

_Thomas Fucking Shelby murdered the man you loved in cold blood and you watched it happen, right in front of your bloody eyes._

"What about Ada? And Karl?" You whispered, reluctantly reaching out towards the cigarette that Tommy held between his lips and grabbing it. He parted his lips the minute you held the cigarette, letting you take it. 

"I'll find a way to get them back." 

You took a lingering drag of the cigarette, watching its end burn a bright orange before Tommy plucked it from your lips. 

"I can promise you one thing though," he suddenly said, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor and stepping on it, "You will be under my protection if you agree." 

_Thomas Shelby is a fucking murderer. A cold blooded killer with no remorse. He would have killed you too if he saw you there._

"I've given my commitment, Mr. Shelby, I'm not backing out now, besides, Ada and Karl don't deserve the mess they have been bloody put through, I am doing this, _for them_." 

You both looked up to see your apartment, the lamp on the front door flickering and a soft sigh escaped your lips. 

"That'll be me," you softly said and he just nodded, sliding his hands through his pockets. 

"You will be picked up tomorrow morning, be ready by 9 am sharp. We have a train to catch," Tommy spoke, pulling his cap off, running his calloused hand through his hair. You nodded and opened your front door, stepping into the hallway that led to the stairs leading to your first floor apartment. You could see him still standing there so you turned, only to realise that there was noone there anymore. Sighing to yourself, thinking about what he had just said to you, you walked up the flight of stairs and pulled out your house keys from your handbag, sliding it into the doorknob, unlocking your door. 

You were nervous about what was going to happen tomorrow, more so because Tommy, the man you'd always seen as terrifying was as terrified as you were. You were nervous because you weren't against him tomorrow, you were both on the same boat. If he sank, you sank. 

You slammed the door shut, a little too loudly, your head throbbing with a headache. The first thing you did was take off your coat and your heels, before running up to the bottle of whiskey that lay on your vanity, and an empty glass, your feet grazing against the old floorboards of your room. You fixed yourself a drink, sitting back comfortably against the bed when a knock on your door startled you. 

You stood up, almost losing your balance at the sudden movement you made. With fast steps, you were at your door. You reached for the lock, slowly unlocking the door and opening it just enough to look out from. 

" _Mr. Shelby?"_

You opened the door wide and Tommy Shelby walked in, without directly looking at you. Confused, you stepped back inside and locked the door. When you turned around, Tommy was standing by the window with his back turned towards you, his body slightly hunched forward, his arm resting against the windowsill. 

You saw him from the corner of your eye as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a something shiny – a _fucking_ gun. 

__Your heart stopped._ _

The room was silent, so silent, you could hear your heart beat like a super fast train. 

_You knew what was going to happen now. He was going to murder you, right in your house and no one would even find your body._

Reflexively, you took a step away, then another and .. another until your back hit the wall behind you and you had no place to go. 

Those blue haunting eyes kept looking at you, taunting you. 

Tommy Shelby was walking towards you and you knew this was the end. 

Time stopped for you, the only thing that didn't stop was his pace. He came close to you, almost an inch apart now, with a gun in his hand. Suddenly, his hand reached out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, slowly pulling your hand towards him. 

He placed the gun in your hand. 

_" W-What?"_

It was as though someone had muted you. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All that came out was a single tear, _unnoticed_ , thanks to the dim lighting of your room. 

"I want you to keep this, just in case." 

You looked down at the pistol in your hand, your hand trembling as you held it. You couldn't help but think - Was this the same gun that he had used when he had killed Noel? 

Slowly, you curled your fingers tighter around the pistol and lowered your hand, against your side and nodded, a faint nod. He looked at you for a few seconds more and then turned away from you, abruptly, slowly starting to walk towards your door when you called out, "Can you atleast teach me how to use a gun? It bloody isn't of any use to me if I can't even hold it right."

He stopped walking but he kept standing with his back turned towards you for a few seconds. 

"You really don't know how to hold a bloody gun?" There it was; that unmistakable smirk in his voice, he was amused, he was inwardly laughing at you. 

"You find that amusing? Yes, I have no fucking idea how to use a gun or even hold one. Well, that's because I never needed to," your arms crossed over your chest in an unladylike manner and you slammed the gun on your vanity, your hand grabbing the drink that you had just prepared for yourself. You brought it up to your lips and took a sip, feeling the burning liquid rushing down your throat and settling into the pit of your stomach. 

"Come on, try it. Hold it up for me." You could see him try to suppress a laugh, making your frown go even deeper across your forehead. 

"Why don't you show me how it's done first?" You snapped, downing the liquid in one go and placing the glass back on the vanity. 

Tommy moved from where he was standing to where your vanity was, his fingers curling around the pistol he just handed you. He then turned towards your front door, his face turned towards the door, making only his side visible to you. He was standing with his legs slightly parted, his back straight, his hand lowered, the one with the gun. 

"Always make sure the safety is on when you are not going to fire, saves you a bloody trip to the hospital." 

You nodded. 

Tommy slowly raised the gun in his hand, his one leg now slightly pushed forward. 

"Never hold the gun lightly. You'll blow up your hand if the grip isn't steady."

You blinked, chewing on the insides of your cheeks, your piercing gaze fixed on Tommy Shelby. You found yourself looking at him with an intrigue, your eyesight trailing over his the side of his face, his chiseled jaw, unknowingly. Your gaze trailed downwards, taking in his form, the way he stood, the posture he maintained and unknowingly, you bit your lip hard, a sudden metallic taste erupting in your mouth. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself walking closer to him and walked past him, until you were now standing by the window, your eyes wanting to get a better look at the man in front of you. 

You mentally spoke to yourself, you were doing this to learn the correct form of how to hold a gun, that you wanted to be prepared for what was to come tomorrow. 

"Always keep your shoulders straight. Aim for the most vulnerable body part if you want to kill him, the forehead or the neck, and if you just want to incapacitate him temporarily, shoot him in his bloody thighs." You heard him say. 

Suddenly, he lowered his hand and turned to face you, your eyes meeting. 

"Try it now. Let's see if you learnt anything all this while," he murmured in a low voice. 

You reached with your palm and took the gun from his hand, moving to where Tommy was earlier standing while he moved to the window and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. Just like Tommy had showed you, you positioned yourself, your hands slightly trembling as you started raising your hand. Tommy lit the cigarette and took a lingering puff, letting out the smoke, his eyes scrutinizing you. You could feel his burning gaze on you, and suddenly, a flush crept over your face, your cheeks feeling suddenly hot. 

"Stop hunching the shoulders like that, the gun will definitely recoil if you hold it like that," he chided you. You closed your eyes, trying to calm your fluttering nerves and let out an exhale, opening your eyes again. Tommy grunted almost inaudibly and he walked up to you, placing the cigarette on your lips. Thankful, you inhaled as much smoke as your lungs could take and shot it out, straightening your form as you did that. The smoke, however, didn't calm your trembling hands.

"I can't fucking do it, I can't hold a fucking gun, how am I supposed to defend myself with it?" Annoyed, you jerked your hand away and tossed the gun into the air, the gun landing right in Tommy's hands. You heard him let out a low sigh and in the dim lighting of your room, you saw him through the corner of your eye as he strode towards you. 

Roughly, he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand towards him, making you let out a surprised yelp. He tossed the gun back into your hand and turned you around abruptly to face the door, slowly stepping behind you. A sudden panic flew through your insides and you were about to push yourself away when his hand came to rest on your waist, steadying you to your spot. 

"Relax, you can do it, it's easy," you heard him say. 

You were _terrified_ ; suddenly terrified of the way your heart had just started racing. You were terrified he will feel it, the way he was standing behind you. 

You lifted your hand again unable to control the trembling of them. Tommy helped. He reached out suddenly, placing his cold palms on your arms to stop them from shivering causing you to close your eyes for a moment. 

This _terrified_ you. 

Your hand moved with him, slowly, in a rhythm and you fixed your hand in the correct posture. 

Tommy inched closer, his lips directly in line with your ears, "that's it. It wasn't so difficult now, was it?" 

You pushed yourself away from him, moving to where you bed was and sat down by the edge of it, glaring at him with your beady eyes, throwing daggers at him for acting this way. How dare he try to invade your personal space? How dare he do whatever this was and cause your mind to explode like this? You were so confused, so dazed, you didn't know how to react. 

"I'm tired, Mr. Shelby," you said in a low voice and he just looked at you blankly for a minute as though taken aback and nodded, the cold, usual Thomas Shelby suddenly coming back from wherever he had earlier been hiding. He didn't say anything, he just placed the gun on your vanity and turned towards the door, placing his cap back on top of his head as he traced his steps towards the door. He pulled open the door and stepped out, sliding his hands into his pockets and walked away. 

You kept sitting in your bed, too numb to even get up and lock the door as his footsteps slowly faded away. "Are you as afraid as I am, Mr. Shelby?" You whispered to yourself as you laid down on your side, your head resting against the pillow, your eyes fixed on the wide open door in front of you your chest heaving up and down as you breathed. 

_You are nothing but a cold blooded murderer, Thomas Shelby._

You rolled over until your face was buried in your pillow, blocking the tears that had managed to spill through your eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre war Tommy would have been like this. 
> 
> Happy read, folks.

The black frock that you were wearing made you feel uncomfortable; and then there was a matching black fedora on top of your head, almost hiding your eyes – the kind of clothing you definitely wasn’t used to. It had been almost thirty minutes since you had stepped off the train in London, with Thomas Shelby by your side. You both were now sitting in a carriage, the carriage driving through the heart of London, towards Mr. Burke’s house. 

You pulled out the last stick that was left in your cigarette box, placing it between your lips and then pulled out the matchbox, your eyes fixed on the moving silhouettes of the houses from the window of your carriage. It felt good to be back in London, no matter how brief and uncharacteristic the reason was. You lit the end of your cigarette, inhaling the smoke and letting it out as you forced yourself to look at Tommy – he was staring out of the window, his hand placed on his chin, as though in a deep thinking. You just forced yourself to look away.

The next two minutes was as silent as a night could be, only to be broken by the sound of Tommy’s low voice through your ears, “Don’t speak unless you really need to. We don’t want to end up saying things that will cause problems for us later.” 

“I thought you were doing the talking and I was just a trophy that was tagging along with you,” the corners of your lips curved into a sly smile and you kept looking at the window. 

Tommy kept silent, and you placed the cigarette back on your lips, watching its end glow a golden orange. 

You looked up at him suddenly, your eyes slightly narrowed, but curious. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to him? How you’re going to bloody convince him to sign the papers to his house?” 

Tommy just shrug his shoulders, as though this was least of his worries right now and you just rolled your eyes inwardly, shaking your head at how casual his approach was. 

“He’s a businessman,” Tommy suddenly spoke. 

“So?” you asked. 

“He will understand if I try to convince him by telling him that I wish to expand my business to Warwickshire,” he said, absent-mindedly, his eyes still on the passing houses. 

“What business? Gambling? Betting?” You said dryly as you dumped the cigarette butt into the ashtray and sat back more comfortably, pulling your right leg over your left your gloved palm placed on your knee. 

“Do you have a better idea?” He said, briefly turning to look at you. There was a look of amusement to his face, his lips twitching slightly, as though he was suppressing a chuckle. He really did know how to get on your nerves, fucking Thomas Shelby. You shook your head and sat back, resting your head against the window and closing your eyes. 

-

The house was nothing extraordinary; it was big, no doubt, but it did not look elegant, not the kind of a house you would look at, twice. You wondered if the Arrowe House was similar too, you’d never seen it. Tommy walked up to the front stairs, holding a bag that had both your clothes, Tommy’s as well as yours. You had protested but Polly had insisted it looked intimate sharing the same bag. You followed him up the stairs, your hands nervously running through your hair, making sure your fedora was correctly aligned to your head. 

Tommy rang the doorbell, and you both waited. A minute later, you heard footsteps on the other side of the door and you were greeted by the sound of someone unlocking it. The door flung open and you were greeted by a man, not less than sixty, his hair already white like snow. He ran his hand through his moustache and gave Tommy a warm smile, “Mr. and Mrs. O'Sullivan, I was expecting you to come little early. I hope the journey wasn’t that horrible.” You saw from the corner of your eye as the man extended his hand towards Tommy and Tommy took it, shaking it slightly and dropping it. 

“Come in,” you heard him say as he turned around and started walking into the house. 

The house was prettier inside than it had been on the outside, the tapestry looked rich and the curtains were beautiful velvet. The hallway was adorned with paintings as you walked further into the house towards what you assumed was the parlor. 

When you stepped into the parlor, your eyes fell on an old woman, almost the same age as Mr. Burke, sitting by the fireplace on an armchair. She turned towards you and Tommy, giving you a warm smile before standing up and trotting up to you. 

“Mr. O'Sullivan, this is my wife, Greta.” 

The tea was served shortly and you found yourself sitting next to Mr. Burke’s wife in the parlor while Tommy and Mr. Burke sat a few steps away, smoking a cigarette and talked business.

“I suppose you’ll be heading back to Birmingham tomorrow?” he asked, his voice curious but not suspicious. 

Tommy nodded as he emptied the ash into the ashtray, his gaze momentarily flicking to you and then back towards him. 

“I suppose, yes, if the work we’re bloody here for is done,” he smiled. _Not bad for a man who claimed not to know the basics about dramatics,_ you thought to yourself. On the coffee table in front of Tommy, the papers to the deed of the Arrowe House lay, untouched. You reached for the cup of tea, curling your finger around it and lifted it, bringing it to your lips, your eyes fixed on them.

“Mr. O'Sullivan, I would really like to know what your plans are, with what intentions do you wish to buy the house?” the man suddenly said, causing you to flick your gaze to Tommy. 

You waited for him to speak. A minute passed, but Tommy didn’t reply. Suddenly, he turned to look at you, a look that you could only translate as a call for help. Your mind stopped thinking and you felt your cheeks get hotter. Tommy was even worse than you were, even more clueless as to what he wanted to say and this annoyed you. 

Suddenly, you found yourself leaning slightly forward and speaking to Mr. Burke.

“It was my idea, Mr. Burke,” The minute the words escaped your lips, you felt three pair of eyes turn towards you, their piercing gazes fixed on you. You closed your eyes for a brief second, taking a deep breath and then fluttered your eyes open again, looking at the men. “I’m tired of living in the city, Mr. Burke, it’s so bloody loud and overpopulated.” 

“Yes, Birmingham’s not an ideal place for a young couple like you two to live in,” Mrs. Burke whispered, in a low voice, nodding at you in understanding. You gave her an acknowledging glance and turned back towards the men again. 

“I just recently found out that we are, _uh_ , expecting. I don’t think the city is a good place to raise a child. I have been nagging my husband ever since we found out. There’s no place like the country to raise a child,” you stopped speaking only to be met by a terrifying glare from Tommy. You didn’t turn your gaze away from him, not this time, you had already done it a countless times. He needed to fucking look into your eyes right now and trust you. 

His eyes softened and he looked away, looking down at the flames of the fire in the fireplace. 

You knew that he was placing his trust in you that you could handle this. 

“I always tell my wife how women force the best decisions out of their husbands,” Mr. Burke mumbled to himself, rather than to you, making you bite your lip, trying to suppress your chuckle when you heard his words, “Mr. O'Sullivan, you should agree with your wife when she says this, the country is really a far better place than Birmingham to raise your child.” 

Your eyes widened when you saw him reach for the papers and take it into his hands, followed by the pen. Within the next two minutes, Mr. Burke was holding the signed papers of the Arrowe House in his hands. 

“I just have to go through the clauses once more, just to make sure we aren’t missing on anything legal,” Mr. Burke stood up, still holding the signed papers in his hands. “I’ll hand them over to you tomorrow, the house is yours, Mr. O'Sullivan.” He threw out his hand towards Tommy and he took it, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

You were momentarily distracted when the wife placed her palm on your arm, your gaze travelling from Tommy to her. She politely informed you that the guest room was ready and she would show you the way to it. You nodded and turned towards your _husband_ , clearing your throat slightly, “Can we call it a night off, my dear? I’m tired,” You walked up to him with a soft _fake_ smile playing on your lips, feeling his cold palm land on the small of your back, holding you lightly. He nodded and cleared his throat, slowly following you as you both made your way into the guest bedroom with Mrs. Burke. 

-

You could hear the shower still on. You were pacing around the guest bedroom, that you were supposed to share with your fake husband. You looked at the bed, it was big enough to fit three people in it but you weren't ready to share it with him, _never_. You decided in your mind that you will take the armchair and let him take the bed. 

You walked up to the vanity by the closet, slowly lowering yourself on the stool in front of it, looking into your own reflection in your mirror. 

What had the Shelby's done to you? The fire that once burnt in your eyes, the unmistakable, insatiable need to destroy them all, that fire was slowly dying. 

Your hands reached to the fabric of your frock. You pulled it over your head, curling it into a ball and stuffing it into the bag. Pulling out a plain white night gown, one of the most modest looking ones that you had, you put it on, pulling your hair up in a messy bun. Inside the bathroom, the shower went off, making you swallow your own saliva, your reluctance to watch him step into the bedroom evident. 

The door opened slowly and Tommy stepped out, not bothered at all, wearing only a pajama to cover his lower body, his upper torso naked and water droplets still rolling down his shoulder blades. You turned your gaze away, busying yourself in pulling out the blanket from the closet when you discreetly turned your gaze towards him, his side turned towards you. 

He was drying his hair with the towel, unaware of the fact that you were looking at him. Your gaze travelled over his body, studying the tattoos that were inked to his biceps; and the tattoo on his chest.

As if on cue, he turned his head towards you, forcing you to look away at once, like a child that had been caught eyeing the candy at a store. 

"What?" He just said, his voice low. 

You dumped the blanket on the armchair by the window, looking at him. 

"Just wondering, how you took the whole _bloody_ act of ours to a whole new level," you let out a dry chuckle, hoping to dissolve the sudden tension that you felt, in the pit of your stomach. He'd caught you staring; you had caught yourself, _staring at him_. Tommy, however, didn't answer, he was too lost in his own thoughts to react or even listen to what you had said. You kept looking at him as he pulled on a loose cotton shirt, his hair still wet and sticking to his forehead. He made his way to his pants that he had been wearing earlier, pulling out his box of cigarettes from its pocket. He took one out and sat down by the edge of the bed, bringing it to his lips and lighting a match. 

"What's going on in that bloody head of yours?" You walked up to him, slowly lowering yourself next to him on the bed, the bed slightly creaking with the weight of you both combined on it. You didn't know why and you knew this was crazy, but this felt oddly intimate. He plucked the cigarette off his lips, throwing it out to you. You reached for it, holding it between your fingers bringing it to your lips, your eyes fixed on his blue eyes that were looking at you. 

"He fucking signed the deed, yet chose to keep it with him, till the morning, something's running through his bloody mind," he muttered, under his breath. 

You let out a punctured breath, taking another drag of his cigarette, before giving it back to him, staring at the door in front of you. 

"They're old people; you know how apprehensive and doubtful they bloody are. Maybe he really just wants to read through the clauses like he said. Besides, he really wouldn't have signed it if he doubted us." 

You stood up abruptly, causing Tommy to sharply turn his head towards you. You just made your way towards the liquor cabinet, turning to look at Tommy, "A drink?" He nodded and turned his gaze away, now toying with his fingers, tapping them against his thighs, over the fabric of his pyjamas. You could see how hard he was thinking about this. You turned the two glasses upside down, filling them up with whiskey to the brim and lifting them up, you walked back to the edge of the bed, handing one to him. You brought your glass to your lips, taking a sip of it, relishing it as it rushed down your throat, warming up your insides, instantly. 

"Tommy –" Your eyes widened in embarassment, "I - I meant, Mr. Shelby," you corrected yourself. 

"Tommy's fine." He said in a low voice and you just stared at him, blankly. _Tommy_ , you repeated in your mind. Before you could say another word, however, there was a knock on your bedroom door, forcing you to look at Tommy in a confused manner. 

"It's me, dear," Mrs. Burke called from the outside. 

Tommy almost groaned in annoyance and you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. He had placed his glass on the bedside table and had pushed himself in a laying position on his bed, covering his face with a pillow. 

You shook your head, taking a minute to compose yourself and then made your way to the door unlocking it from the inside. You opened the door to find her standing there with a cup of what looked like piping hot tea in a tray. 

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything, my dear."

Your face turned a bright crimson, forcing you to lower your gaze and take a look at Tommy. You knew he was secretly laughing from underneath that pillow, loving the way you were squirming with embarassment right now. Lucky he had that pillow to hide his cocky smirk. 

"No, you didn't, Mrs. Burke," you hurriedly added, trying to cover up the blush in your cheeks. 

Mrs. Burke moved past you, eyeing Tommy as he was laying on the bed. Assuming that he was fast asleep, she lowered the volume of her voice, as she spoke again, "My dear, I just made you some herbal tea, it's good for the morning sickness, helps you float through it as easy as a pie." 

_Bloody hell._

You wondered how embarrassing the entire situation could further get. Wasn't it embarassing enough already? 

"Thank you, Mrs. Burke, that's kind of you," you whispered, taking the tea from her hands and placing it on the side table, next to Tommy's half drunk glass of whiskey. 

"Well, another thing, my husband and I, we are headed to the town to get some groceries. We'll be gone an hour or two. I'm locking the door from the outside, so you don't have to wake up and unlock the door for us when we return." 

"I can do that, it's not a problem," you whispered. 

"No, no, dear. It's perfectly fine. You should get some rest, you have travelled today." 

Saying that, the woman turned on her toes, nervously rubbing her palms against her the fabric of her gown and you watched her as she disappeared through the hallway into one of the rooms. 

"She's a little odd," you whispered, to yourself, but you knew Tommy could hear you. 

You bolted the bedroom door again and the minute the door was locked, Tommy pulled off the pillow off his face, his face red like a tomato. Suddenly, he burst into a laughter you had never seen before. 

You had never seen him laugh before, he hardly ever smiled. Here he was today, laughing heartily in front of you. Unknowingly, a tiny smile broke out on your lips and you shook your head at him, walking up to the side table and lifting the tray of the herbal tea in your hands. You brought your nose closer to it, sniffing it slightly and your face turned sour. 

"Fucking hell, this smells like horse piss," you muttered, watching Tommy snort and fall back against the headboard of the bed, laughing so hard, you could see tears in his eyes. 

"This ain't funny, Tommy." 

"(Y/N), you should look at your bloody face right now. It's redder than a ripe tomato," he said, now relaxing against the headboard, reaching for his glass of whiskey and bringing it to his lips. 

"Why don't you have it instead?" You mumbled, still staring at the cup of tea that looked like poison. 

"Why should I? You're the one that's pregnant," he smirked. 

The _fucking balls_ on this man.

"Well, we've both had a bloody long day, Thomas, we should both get a good night's rest," you shot him a pointed glare, so pointed it caused him to stop smirking, but you could still see a ghost of an upward curve on the corner of his lips. You walked back to the armchair and sunk into it, only lifting your eyes to fix it on Tommy who was looking at you, his deep gaze fixed on you. 

"What's with the look?" You said, looking down at the floor. 

"The bed's bloody big enough to fit three people in it." 

You shook your head to yourself, placing the blanket over your feet, falling back until your back got comfortable against the backrest of the armchair. 

"Go to sleep, Mr. Shelby," you said, with a finality in your voice and your eyes clenched themselves shut. Tommy didn't reply, the only sound reaching your ears now was the sound of the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it over his body. You heard him shift slightly in bed, the sound of his breathing now audible as the room was engulfed in a silence, and darkness, the only light peeping in through the window, that of the moon.

Minutes passed, and minutes turned to an hour. 

Finally, you slide out from underneath your blanket, making sure to be light on your feet. You didn't want to wake Tommy up. 

You quietly lit a matchstick, the yellow light slightly illuminating the room around you, as you fixed your gaze on him. He was fast asleep, you could see his chest heaving up and down, making him look so peaceful, so content. It is ironic, how a flame shows no pity, engulfing anything that comes in its path, destroying it, burning it to a crisp. You kept staring at the flame that lit in front of your eyes, watching it slowly start fluttering and die down. When you stared into this flame, it isn't fire that you saw, you saw him. He was that fire. And he had destroyed you. In the warmth that little fire gave you, you felt him. 

You brought your lips closer to the flame and blew on it, watching it go off, feeling the darkness take you in once more. You didn't close your eyes and let sleep take you. You reached for the pistol that was safely tucked in your handbag, curling your fingers tightly around it. Your heart was racing, a sudden heat filling up your insides, making your temples start to sweat. With slow, broken steps, you made your way through the darkness, only using the moonlight to guide your way through, until you were standing next to Tommy, looking down at him. 

The moonlight directly fell on his face, illuminating the corners of his lips. 

This was it. This was the moment you had always waited for, the moment your heart ached for. You had it. And it was Tommy Shelby who had given the moment to you. It was Tommy Shelby who had handed you the gun. 

With trembling hands, you slowly raised the gun to his forehead, just like he had taught you to. 

It felt good, it felt _exhilarating_. 

The gun was in your hand now; and with one squeeze of the trigger, you would get what you were here for. You would get the revenge you wanted, _needed_.

You took the chance, you closed your eyes as tight as you could and you placed your finger on the trigger, squeezing it and shot, again, and again and again. You kept pressing the trigger again and again until tears took over you and a wave of uncontrollable sobs wracked through your throat, forcing you to press your palm against your mouth to mask the sound. 

_You knew the gun had no bullets in it; you knew that._


	6. Chapter 6

You had your little outburst but Tommy Shelby slept through it all; so peacefully, like a baby while you just sat there in that uncomfortable armchair, your legs curled underneath you, staring into the darkness, waiting for yourself to get even an ounce of sleep, but you couldn't.

It kept playing on repeat in your mind - you didn't kill Tommy Shelby when you could have loaded some bullets into the fucking gun and shot through his skull. 

But, you couldn't do it.

Angrily you hurled your hands through your hair, entangling your fingers in them, lowering your head. Your head hurt and so did your heart. 

You didn't know what to do. On one side, you knew that Noel deserved to be avenged, for the wrong that was done to him. But on the other hand, you didn't have the fucking guts to pull the trigger and end this once and for all. 

You decided to go into the kitchen and make yourself a cup of tea to help you sleep through the night, knowing that the Burkes weren't back from the town yet.

Quietly, you unlocked your bedroom door and crept out, walking on your bare feet, the old floorboards creaking slightly as you made your way into the kitchen. You placed the water on the stove to boil it and started preparing yourself the tea you so desperately wanted. Once the tea was ready, you poured it in a cup and lifted it in your hand, stepping out of the kitchen.

The hallway was quiet, you and Tommy being the only two people in a massive house right now. 

As you were passing through the Burkes' bedroom, you noticed that the door was open. Although you didn't intend to, you still, unknowingly turned towards it, looking inside. It was a beautiful room and you couldn't stop admiring it. 

It was a large and spacious room; the walls painted soft ivory, making you want to run your fingers along the walls. A four postered bed stood majestically in the center of the room, but it was the coffee table that caught your eye.

You noticed something kept on it, making your curiosity rise. You quietly stepped in, double checking to make sure no one had seen you and trotted up to the table, looking down at the contents that lay on top of it, still holding the cup of tea.

Your mouth fell open at the sight, as your eyes fixed on the newspaper that lay on top of it, along with the _signed_ paperwork for the Arrowe House, that Mr. Burke had told Tommy he will hand over tomorrow. 

Printed on the front page of the newspaper was Thomas Shelby's face, with the caption that read - _By Order of the Peaky Blinders ._

The tea cup fell from your hand, crashing to the floor, the ceramic flying everywhere, the hot tea spilling everywhere, including your foot, burning it, causing burn blisters to form on your skin. 

It hurt like hell but you didn't care. 

You grabbed the newspaper, your nails digging into the paper as you held it closer, reading the headline again and again. This couldn't be. This fucking couldn't be. Not now. 

This meant only one thing; the Burkes knew it, they knew who Tommy was. Maybe, this had all been a trap to make you stay overnight, the Burkes hadn't really gone to the town to do their shopping, they had probably gone to bring the coppers along with them. And if you were right, the coppers were on their way to you now. You had no idea how long it will take for them to break through that front door, and take you, and _Tommy_.

Tommy Shelby. 

Your mind drifted to the man sleeping peacefully in the next room, who had no clue how fucked you both were. 

You threw the newspaper to the floor and turned around, running through the hallway, the blisters on your feet throbbing, causing you to limp as you did. Nevertheless, you ran, like this was the end of it all. 

You entered through the door to the guest bedroom that was still engulfed in darkness and you could hear the sound of Tommy's peaceful breaths. 

How could he sleep so soundly through this all? Like he had never slept before? 

Your eyes fell on the window. 

You could use it to bloody escape this place and run away. No one would find you. You could take the first train out of London, that'll take you anywhere, but here. Even back to Birmingham. 

You could leave Tommy here. This would give you an added chance to escape. They would hardly think of you when they'll have Tommy Shelby. 

You winced slightly as the burning sensation in your foot throbbed, causing tears to bubble up in your eyes as you fought with your mind for control. 

Maybe this is why Tommy had given you that bloody pistol. 

If something went drastically wrong, which it had. 

You shook the thoughts out of your mind, pushing them as far as you could push them to. You didn't have time, they would come for you any minute. 

You couldn't leave Tommy behind because you two were in this, together. If he sank, you sank. 

You fell to your knees next to Tommy Shelby, placing your hands on his sturdy chest abruptly shaking him out of sleep, your hands trembling with fear and adrenaline. 

Tommy woke up with a jerk. 

"For fucks sake," you heard him grunt and sit upright reaching for the switch of the bedside lamp to switch it on. 

His gaze fell on you kneeling by his bed, tears streaming down your eyes. 

"what's wrong?" He grabbed you by your shoulders, holding you tight, looking down at you as your quivering lips struggled to speak. 

"Coppers are coming, Tommy, the fucking coppers are coming," words shot out of your mouth like a rocket, as you looked into his worried eyes. 

"Bloody get off the floor first, will you?" He snapped in an irritated tone, pulling you up with just one pull. You landed on bed next to him both of you now facing the door. He abruptly turned towards you, looking at you. 

"What happened?" 

"I - I - there's a fuckin' newspaper in their bedroom with your fuckin' face printed on it. That's what bloody happened, Tommy. It even says the words, _By order of the Peaky Blinders_." On listening to your words, Tommy's calloused hands immediately flew to his hair, almost tugging at them as he frantically started looking around. 

"Get dressed," he snapped suddenly, jumping to his feet, speeding his way to where his clothes lay. He grabbed his pants, not bothering to even go to the bathroom to change. He just dropped his pajamas, plopping against the edge of the bed kicking his feet through his pants. You followed suit, panic flying through you. You grabbed your frock, pulling your nightdress over the top of your head, letting it drop to the floor and put your frock on. 

"Your gun, (Y/N), just keep it with you." You heard him say. 

You nodded, hurriedly grabbing the gun that lay on the coffee table. Holding the empty gun in your hand, you ran up to your handbag, loading the gun with the bullets as fast as your fingers could. 

That's when you heard it, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Tommy heard it too, you heard him mutter _fuck_ under his breath. 

_"Where are they bloody hiding?"_

_"They are in the guestroom, upstairs."_

Tommy ran up to the window and threw it wide open, poking his head out through it, to look at how high the room was. 

"We will have to fuckin' jump," he looked back at you.

You nodded, running up to him and fixing yourself behind him. 

Tommy went first. You watched as he crossed one foot over, then another, and then taking a deep breath, he jumped, his feet landing against the paved road with a thud. 

"Come on, jump, (Y/N)." He threw out his palms towards you, momentarily looking to his left and then his right, then back up at you. You grabbed your skirt, sliding your foot over and then pulling the other one out too so that you were sitting by the windowsill with your legs now dangling underneath you. It was too fucking high. This was higher than what you had thought it to be, you were terrified suddenly. 

Behind you, the sound of footsteps were getting louder and you knew they were coming. 

"Just fuckin' go, Tommy, I can't do this." You looked down. It was a long way down and you knew you couldn't make it. It was better to go to prison. They'd just beat you up anyway, breaking a few bones in your body. 

"Bloody look at me," Tommy screamed. 

The rawness and the desperation in his voice forced you to look into his eyes. He blinked, his eyes soft as he encouragingly nodded towards your direction, his arms outstretched. 

"Jump, (Y/N), I will catch you." 

You knew he would. 

Just like you couldn't blow his fuckin' brain last night even when you had the chance to, you knew Tommy Shelby couldn't leave you behind. He had promised you he would protect you. 

"Save me, dear Lord," you closed your eyes, muttering a small prayer. Your palm grip tightened against the window frame, as you arched your body backwards, trying to get the momentum right, when the door burst open behind you. "Fuck," you cursed, pushing yourself forward, off the window, screaming, your eyes involuntarily shutting tight, blocking your vision. 

Your feet hit the floor, the impact causing your body to fall forward. You waited for your face to hit the pavement but you fell into something soft but sturdy. When you blinked your eyes open, you were safely in his arms, the side of your face pressed to his chest, with him looking down at you, scanning your body for any injuries that you might have taken during the fall. 

Something melted inside you, just watching his obsidian hair that fell over his forehead, irritating him and causing him to shake his head trying to get them off his face. "Are you hurt?" His voice was low and like honey, unlike how he had ever spoken to you before. It was full of worry, _for you_. You unknowingly reached out , your fingers stretched towards him, pushing your fingers through his tousled locks, pushing them off his eyes, forcing him to sharply turn towards you, with a blank expression on his face, your eyes locking with his. 

"There they bloody are," a copper reached the window and saw you and Tommy, pointing his finger towards you, screaming at the other coppers that were probably inside. 

Tommy took this minute to take your hand, entwining your fingers in his as you both started running down the back alley, ignoring the outbursts of shouts arising behind you. 

"Don't bloody look back, just keep running," Tommy huffed, not letting go of your hand as you both turned from alley to alley until you were finally in an alley that seemed dinghy and was broad enough for just two people to walk through it if standing side by side.

You both pushed your way through the clothes that hung on ropes, ducking and running from underneath them, not even looking back to see if you were still being followed or not. By the time you reached the end of this alley, you were done for. 

"Tommy, I'm bloody out of breath," you gasped, taking deep, raspy breaths like that of a fish out of water, placing your palm on the wall and bending forward. 

Tommy nodded and stopped running as well, taking a few seconds to get his breath back, that he managed to do before you. He then turned towards the direction you both had come from, checking just to make sure you weren't being followed. 

"Tommy, what about Ada and Karl? This means Edmund fuckin' Moore won't hand them over." The mission you had come here for had failed. 

His head turned sharply towards you as you said those words and a look of regret flashed in his sunken eyes. 

"We'll have to fight him then, get the boys ready once I am back." 

You nodded, looking down at your feet. 

"Come on, we have to move, they'll be here any bloody minute now," he nudged you. 

"But Tommy, till when are we bloody going to run? This has to end somewhere," you replied, still leaning by the wall for support, your chest still heaving up and down, as you took your deep breaths.

Tommy ran his hand through his face, his shoulders hunched slightly, in defeat while you kept staring at him, blankly, waiting for him to come up with a plan B. Suddenly, he looked up at you, your eyes meeting, a look of finality in his eyes. 

"Go to the station, get on a train to Birmingham, alright?" 

"I'm not leaving you here." 

He shook his head, taking a small step towards you but stopped himself from coming any closer. You could see that he was wrestling with himself for control. You only didn't know, or _didn't wish to know_ why. 

"I'll come back when things settle down," he said to you, in a low voice. 

"Tommy, I - I - " You couldn't complete your words. An uncontrollable sob took over you, forcing you to press your palm against your lips and turn away. 

_What were you doing? What were you going to say?_

Your thoughts were interrupted when Tommy suddenly pushed you, pressing you to the wall, pinning you to it, your back brushing against the gravel. He was so close to you, you could feel his heart racing in his chest. You closed your eyes, letting him place his warm palms on your neck, holding on to you. You basked in his embrace, your heart hammering inside you, ready to pop out. 

Tommy's fingers trailed over your skin on the side of your neck, gently pushing your hair away, his soft brushes against your bare skin suddenly feeling so tantalizing, you wanted this moment to never end.

He was as close as you'd ever let any man before, _except Noel_.

The realisation hit you. 

_Noel_ . 

You forced yourself to push your eyes wide open, your cheeks now soggy with tears. 

"If I come with you, I'm bloody sure the coppers will be looking for me at the station. You , they don't know your face. They won't bloody recognize you." 

Slowly, you placed your palms on Tommy's chest, pushing him away, gently. He was taken aback, his earlier warm expressions suddenly turning cold again, as though the past few minutes had never happened. You used your sleeve to wipe your palms, your demeanor suddenly changing. Without thinking, you looked up at him and nodded, giving him a ghost of a smile.

"Alright, I will go back, alone." You nodded, taking a step away from him, slowly walking away. 

This time you didn't turn around and look at him. 

You kept walking until Tommy was out of sight. You looked down at your blistered feet, swallowing the lump forming in your throat and looked up again, running your hand through your hair. You knew you didn't owe him anything, or the truth, but you felt bad, for lying to him. You weren't going back to Birmingham, you weren't going back again. 

You were staying here in London. 

Because you couldn't bring yourself to hate Tommy Shelby any longer. 

You were afraid to say it out loud, but you were in love with the man who had killed your boyfriend. 

You felt guilty.


	7. Chapter 7

Your London apartment didn't feel so welcoming anymore, instead, it felt haunting.

Three days had passed since you had lied to Tommy about going back to Birmingham but what you actually did was stay in London, because you couldn't face Tommy Shelby again. 

It was three bloody days since you had locked yourself up, curled up in bed, only momentarily getting up to use the washroom or go out during the night to get yourself some fruits to munch on. You hardly ate, you didn't feel like, but it didn't bother you much. 

It was your thoughts that were corroding you from the inside. You were missing Tommy, you were worried about him, although you knew he was back in Birmingham. You had telephoned the Shelby Brothers LTD and Scud-boat had received it. You had lied that you wished to speak to Thomas Shelby and you were from the press. Scud-boat had told you that Thomas was in an important engagement at the moment and he could not speak to you, if there was any message, he would take it on his behalf. 

Your mind wandered, wondering if he tried looking for you, back in Birmingham. You wondered if he was able to get Ada and Karl back. It was so much on his shoulders, and he was still pushing himself forward, without looking back. 

Tommy Shelby was a devil, a devil you were secretly in love with. 

When had it come to this? 

Days turned to weeks and you finally found yourself getting better. You started getting out of your apartment more frequently. Tommy was right, no one recognised who you were. Your mind now thought of Tommy Shelby less and less, but nevertheless, it did. Mostly when you were curled up in bed at night, your heart ached for him. 

You sat on a bench, a lit cigarette fixed to your lips, a book wide open laying on your thighs, your eyes scanning the crowds that passed you by. You watched families pass you by, the parents holding their children's hands, the children giggling at their siblings and it warmed your heart up. You wondered if there was something like this written for you in destiny. 

You were supposed to spend your life with Noel, marry him, have his children, get old with him but Tommy had stolen him from you. 

Tommy fucking Shelby. 

You wondered if you ever crossed his mind. 

Ever. 

You brought the cigarette up to your lips and took a lingering drag of it, watching its end glow. Your head turned towards your right, at the distinct sound of someone's footsteps approaching. Your eyes widened when you recognised who it was, it blew your mind. 

"Ada? This is a fuckin' surprise, a really good one," you stood up, the book dropping on the bench next to you, forgotten. You wrapped your arms around Ada's neck, pulling her to you, and she embraced you back, smiling warmly. You both broke apart, you instantly leaning over the baby stroller, staring at Karl, who was giggling by now, having seen you. 

"Look how big you've gotten!" You tickled Karl on his stomach and then stood upright, looking at Ada. 

"I know , you have questions, a bloody lot of them and I have time. Come, let's take a bloody walk," she threw out her arm. Hesitating for a bit, you finally nodded, turning back and grabbing your book, closing it shut and shoving it into your bag. You took Ada's arm as you both started strolling all over the streets of London, pushing Karl's stroller as you both talked. 

"What are you _bloody_ doing in London, Ada?" You chided her.

She gave you a ghost of a smile; a carefree smile, and her hand flew up to the side of her face pushing her ivory hair off her face tucking them behind her ear. She looked good, you couldn't say she had been kidnapped, weeks back. 

" _By order of the Peaky Blinders_ , I am to stay in London, for a while, for my own bloody protection," she dramatically rolled her eyes, her expressions turning sour momentarily, giving you a picture that she wasn't happy with any of it. Your mind drifted again, at the mention of the Peaky Blinders, making you think about the Blinder Devil that had your heart. 

"How's Tommy?" 

She gave you a look and you just looked away, biting down on your lip and then back at her. 

"And Pol, Arthur, John and that wife of his? How are they all?" You took a deep breath. 

You and Ada reached the bench where you were earlier sitting at. She fixed the stroller on the grass next to the bench and you both lowered yourself on it, your back resting comfortably against the surface of the bench. 

"They're all fine; Aunt Pol's a cannon, like usual. Arthur's always getting his bloody arse beat up, like on a weekly basis now – " you couldn't help but laugh at that, Arthur was always the one to get beaten up, it didn't matter he was the eldest, he was also the one getting caught up in most of the messes. "John and Esme are having a baby." You smiled softly, looking down at your hands, your fingers toying with the fabric of your dress. "– And Tommy," you looked up at the mention of his name, a sudden tingly feeling overtaking your body. It was funny how that name now was enough to send shivers down your spine. "– A lot happened in the past few weeks. It will take longer for me to tell you about it." You couldn't help but feel deflated, you faintly nodded. 

Suddenly, Ada looked at you with a wide smile on her lips. 

"You really should come over, (Y/N), stay the bloody night with me, we can talk all night after Karl goes to sleep."

You both stood up, wiping the back of your skirts with your hands. Ada fastened her grip against the stroller and she took a step away from you, still waiting for a response. 

"I've been alone all this while, being with you will make me feel better," you gave her a smile and nodded. 

She smiled, giving you her address, verbally. You took a minute to register it in your mind, it wasn't that far from where you lived. You waved her and turned away, fastening your handbag over your shoulder, you started walking into the opposite direction, towards the London Bridge when Ada's voice called out to you from behind, "Why don't you bloody admit it?" 

You stopped walking, slowly turning around. 

"Admit what, Ada?" You gave her a confused look. 

She shook her head. "That you're pining for my brother. I can bloody _see_ it in your eyes. Why don't you admit you're in love with Tommy?"

Your lips pressed into a firm line, your eyebrows creasing in an obvious frown, your eyes lowering. "I'll see you tonight, Ada." You turned around, walking away, ignoring the sigh leaving her lips. 

\- 

You looked down at your feet then back up again. You could see the dim lights of Ada's London apartment from down below. She was on the first floor. You were holding a bottle of a Roc-Noir, the only expensive gift bottle you could find on such a low notice. You timidly stepped into her hallway, slowly pushing yourself up the flight of stairs. You had come here determined, you will not let Ada into talking you about declaring your _love_ for Thomas Shelby.

You could hear Karl's wailing from inside when you reached the front door. Taking a deep breath, you brought up your fisted palm to the door rasping on it. Within seconds, Ada opened the door, with a wide smile fixed to her lips, "You bloody made it," she exclaimed, wrapping her long, bony arms around your neck and you smiled warmly. 

The house was small, but it was cosy. A small fireplace stood in the center of the parlor, with comfy looking armchairs facing it. Your eyes fell on an older looking woman, almost around Polly's age, holding Karl, trying to get him to stop whimpering. 

"Well, that's Karl's governess." Ada pointed out. 

"A governess really?" You smiled and she nodded as she explained. 

"Aunt Pol didn't want me to bloody be alone in London, alone to look after him. That's her parting gift to me," you both giggled at the thought, Ada taking your hand and ushering you inside into the parlor until you both were sitting on the comfortable armchairs with your drinks, Roc-Noir, in your hands. You brought up the wine glass to your lips, taking a sip of it; it was amazing. 

Ada told you everything after you both sat down together, after dinner. She told you about how Tommy came back to Birmingham, not two days after you had abandoned him in London. She told you about the face off between the Peaky Blinders and Edmund Moore, how Tommy had actually managed to get Ada and Karl back home safely, but not without a graze to his body. She told you that Edmund fuckin' Moore shot him on the shoulder, which wasn't as bad as the hit he had taken during Kimber's time.

It came as a relief to you secretly, that Tommy's shoulder had healed pretty well and he was as healthy as he ever was.

You both were so engrossed in talking to each other, you hardly realized it was almost midnight. You yawned wide and looked at Ada, giving her a look. 

"Well, we should get some sleep." 

Ada didn't look convinced, or happy. You could see a frown on her face. 

"What?" You raised an eyebrow. 

"One fuckin' night, (Y/N). I don't get to watch Karl, and I have a friend over. I want to go out , get dressed put some bloody red lipsticks on and grab them heels, we could go to a pub, there's a bloody nice one nearby," she stood up, all excited. What surprised you was that she didn't look a bit exhausted and looked as fresh as ever. You couldn't say no. 

Fine, but remember, I'm bloody doing this for you, Ada," you said, dramatically, making her shoot out a playful giggle. "Got it." She gave you a thumbs up. 

"Well, what am I going to wear?" You looked at her confused. 

"I've got it covered," she replied, giving you a sly smile.

-

You wore Ada's dress and you wouldn't lie, it did look good on you. It was skinny, highlighting and accentuating the curves on your body. The pub was a five minute walk from Ada's apartment. Talking to each other in hushed whispers, you finally reached the pub, Ada taking the lead and pushing the door wide open. The crowd, though mostly men, was much different from what you saw at the Garrison, the men wore round hats on their heads, their suits crisp and ironed. They reminded you of the Shelby Brothers. 

Ada pulled you into a corner by the bar and then wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, speaking right into your ears, "I hope you won't bloody kill me for this but I had to do this." 

"What?" You almost shouted, your eyebrows forming a thin line into a frown when you saw Ada disappear into a bunch of men, now out of sight. "Ada?!!? The fuck?" You whispered, more to yourself than to her because you knew she had abandoned you. 

This was a bloody horror, you wanted to go back, curl up in your bed and get the sleep you so desperately wanted but here you were , standing in a pool of men, at a pub, almost dressed like a whore ,abandoned by the person you came here with.You let out a frustrated grunt, making your way to the bar, now leaning against the counter. You fixed your gaze at the barmaid, giving her a soft smile of your own as she gave you one. 

"New to London? Haven't seen you around. Can I get you something?" 

"Whiskey, please," you said and she nodded, disappearing for a minute and then coming back with a glass. She placed it in front of you ,filling it up to the brim. 

"It's on the house, it seems you are Mr. Shelby's guest?" 

It was as though you couldn't hear her speaking anymore. The only thing you heard was Mr. Shelby. It all made sense now, Ada bringing you to this pub and now the barmaid asking you if you were Mr. Shelby's guest. 

"Who owns this pub?"

"Why, Mr. Thomas Shelby, of course." 

You kept watching the barmaid in horror as she moved to another customer, leaving you standing there in that corner. Your fingers curled around the glass that she had left you, bringing it up to your lips. You swallowed the whiskey in one go, slamming the glass on the counter in front of you.

As if on cue, a wooden door at the back flung open and his familiar silhouette walked in, looking down at the earthen floor, lost in thought. His Blinder cap was fixed to his head and his cigarette to his lips, just like you remembered him. You slid off the stool, taking a step towards the wall, trying to hide yourself from him. That's when he looked up, right at you.

His blue eyes fell on you, his lips almost parted in surprise for a quick second but he quickly masked it, his expressions going cold again. You forced yourself to look away, no matter how hard it was, pushing yourself over a stool, your fingers nervously tapping against the wooden floorboards. You stiffened when you saw him approach you through the corner of your eye, fixing himself next to you, leaning against the counter. 

"Mr. Shelby," your words came out a whisper, making you cringe at yourself, internally. 

He didn't reply, he just brought up the cigarette to his lips, taking a lingering drag, the end turning bright golden. 

"Fancy finding you here in London," he stated. 

"I could say the same for you, you even bought a pub," you placed your elbows on the counter in front of you, flashing a faint smile to the barmaid who just placed a second glass of whiskey in front of you. 

"I wasn't the one who lied about going _back_ to Birmingham —" His eyes were on fire staring down at you, forcing you to not look into them. 

"There was no other option, Tommy —" 

"It's fuckin' _Mr. Shelby_ to you," he cut you off even before you had completed your sentence, shaking you to the core by his sudden yell. 

"Mr. Shelby," you repeated, blankly. 

He dumped the cigarette butt into the ashtray, reaching out for your glass of whiskey. In a whiff, it was all gone and the empty glass lay in front of you. Tommy wiped his lips with his sleeve, turning to look at you again. You could feel his eyes burning into you, making you nervous. 

"I looked for you for weeks." 

You turned to face him, your eyes softening slightly listening to his words, finding words inside you to tell him how you felt. 

_But could you? Tell him how you really felt?_

"I wasn't even your employee anymore, Mr. Shelby." 

You briefly closed your eyes, hoping, _aching_ to hear him say it — that you meant more to him that that. 

"It doesn't matter anymore," his cold voice whispered. 

You wouldn't lie, it hurt. It fucking hurt. 

You stood up, clearing your throat, pulling your shawl tighter over your bare shoulders. "It's been a long night, Mr. Shelby," hopping off the stool, you slowly turned to leave when he suddenly grabbed you by your arm, forcefully, almost shaking you to the core. 

"I don't bloody care whether you live in London or Birmingham, all I want to know is the reason you led me on." 

"I led you on?" When he didn't reply, you repeated your sentence, "I led you on? I just bloody worked for you. You paid me shillings to keep your books. When did things get so bloody complicated?" 

The barmaid cleared her throat, placing Tommy's whiskey in front of him. He let go off you, his fingers curling around his drink, lifting it up and placing it to his lips. He drank his whiskey like water, this one.

"I should've known, never to trust any pretty face, they're all _fucked_ up, and they bloody _fuck you_ up." He said, dryly, downing the contents of the glass and slamming it on the counter. 

"Slow down on that, will you?" You whispered , your gaze falling from him to the empty glass. From the corner, you put up a hand when the barmaid came to fetch Tommy's glass, indicating her not to refill his drink. She nodded and walked away. 

"I will get off your fuckin' face (Y/N), pretend we never met here, or even in Birmingham — "

You closed your eyes, hoping you won't cry. 

" — I only need an answer, why?" 

You opened your eyes, looking away, discreetly wiping a tear off your eye with your palm, facing him again. He looked broken, you could feel it. 

"You want to bloody know why?" You ran your hands through your hair, almost tugging them backwards, your eyes glassy and his eyes cold and stoney, raging red, ablaze, "I didn't bloody like it. I wanted to get on that fucking train and go back, back to the life I had so bloody gotten used to, watching you through that glass booth, daily, every hour, I wanted all that again, but I couldn't. We couldn't. You're Thomas Fuckin' Shelby, you walk the streets of Birmingham like you bloody own every bit of it and I — just look at me, I was a mess, every bit of me, broken. I liked being alone and just the idea of being close to you, it terrified me, it bloody terrified me." 

"You were afraid I'd hurt you. You were afraid of _me_." You saw him stand up straight, looking down at his feet, his head moving in a nod. 

"No, I was afraid of something much worse, I was afraid I would hurt you, somehow." 

Tommy closed his eyes, his calloused hand running through his hair. When he opened his eyes again, you saw him again, the Tommy that held your heart. Not the Tommy that had so brutally murdered Noel. 

"We might never see each other again, I'm going back to Birmingham tomorrow, can we atleast talk tonight?" He asked you, his eyes flashing with hope. 

You nodded, your hand running circles against the fabric of your dress. 

"Stay here, I'll get someone to get Ada back home." 

You saw him leave, his eyes not leaving yours for a split second as he moved to some man at the opposite end of the room to talk to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a roller coaster of emotions for me. Sorry to say I kind of cried like a baby writing this. 
> 
> The song, Un-break my heart by Toni Braxton is close to my heart. 
> 
> And it just went with the theme so I added it. 
> 
> Hope you all love it. 
> 
> Enjoy !

The only sound that grazed your ears was the sound of your heels clanking against the pavement as you walked towards your apartment, and Tommy's. It was funny how neither of you uttered a word on your way back, although Tommy had wanted to spend the night talking to you. 

The silence wasn't uncomfortable though. You kind of liked it. Just being in Tommy's presence once again provided you with a warmth you hadn't felt in a long while. 

"How far do you bloody live? I think we've been walking for ages." Tommy's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, forcing a smile on your lips. 

"You've almost made it Tommy, now stop whining about it," you said, reaching your handbag to fish for the keys in them. You pulled out a bunch of keys from inside and briefly turned to look at Tommy. He was leaning by the stone wall, his cap slightly tilted to his left, holding a bottle of whiskey in either of his hands, even after much protesting by you, that you had some back at home. 

You slid the key into the keyhole, unlocking your front door, stepping into your apartment, biting your lip at how messy it was. The truth was, you'd never expected to bring any visitor out here, leave alone Tommy Shelby. 

"You've upgraded I see," his voice rang through your halls, echoing back as there wasn't much furniture and the rooms were pretty much empty. You locked the door while Tommy waited for you, his eyes piercing into the back of your head, making you feel flushed. 

"This is my parent's house," you informed him, slowly walking with him deeper into the house, towards the parlor, the only room that was fully furnished. 

"I don't see them anywhere," he said, in a low voice and a sigh escaped from your lips, sighing. 

"They live by the countryside now, they let me keep this one, after they threw me out, years back." 

You sat down by the armchair, leaning forward, unclasping your heels and tossing them near the fireplace while Tommy just looked around, placing the two bottles he was holding on the coffee table, his eyes scanning the room, especially your photographs that sat on the windowsill. "Was it that bad that he wasn't a Protestant?" 

You smiled, toying with your fingers. 

"My parents are devout Protestants, always have been. I was an only bloody child. Although I was pampered a lot, I wasn't really given an option to _date_ per say. Neither did I intend to. Until I met him." You closed your eyes for a brief moment, only to open them to find Thomas Shelby standing in front of you with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, thrown out towards you. 

"Are you bloody insane? You want me to have the whole bloody bottle?" You grinned, your fingers curling around the neck of it. 

"I thought Londoners weren't afraid of anything." 

"I think of Birmingham as more of my home than I think of London, Tommy." You said in a low voice, bringing the tip of the bottle to your lips, taking a sip of it.

His head moved in a faint nod and he moved to the couch, sliding himself comfortably against it, lifting his feet up and resting it against the slab on the wall. His fingers, that held the second bottle of whiskey, moved up until the neck was pressed to his lips, his Adams apple swelling and contracting every time the liquid ran down his throat. 

"It's funny, how I don't learn from experiences, at all." He started, making your curiousity suddenly pike. "You know I fell in love with a barmaid at the Garrison."

"What happened to her?" 

"Played me, then left , ran off to London, think she got married, but I don't care now." 

Liar. 

"How did she _play_ you?" You asked, nibbling on your lower lip, your bottle involuntarily going up to your lips, the warm liquid rushing down your throat, your head already feeling a little fuzzy. 

Tommy just looked up at you, the blue in his eyes more clear, just like that of the ocean. He smiled, a genuine one, a look of hurt flashing in his eyes, almost breaking your heart.

"Just like you did, perhaps. She worked for the bloody coppers, gave them everything she had on me. Ruined a lot of good business for me, that one." 

You leaned forward, placing the half empty bottle on the coffee table, then moved up to your feet, your feet grazing against the carpeted floor of your parlor, as you found yourself walking towards the couch where he was sprawled on. You sat down next to him, keeping a _fair_ distance. He turned to look at you, your shoulders at the same level as his, your eyes looking down at him. 

"I didn't play you, Tommy, although you gave me so many chances to." 

Suddenly, you felt your eyes roll back in your head, just slightly, when Tommy brought up his warm palm to the side of your face, hovering near your skin for a bit, only to grab a hold of a stray lock of hair, twisting it, toying with it around his finger. 

Your eyes widened at his next words.

"I was awake that night, when you bloody pulled that gun on me." 

"W-What?" Your breathing hitched. Tommy, however, appeared unfazed. It was probably the alcohol. 

"I waited to see if you would actually bloody pull that trigger. Which you did, multiple times, only your gun wasn't loaded." He stated.

"Tommy, I –" You didn't have the words. He knew what you did that night at the Burkes House, yet he saved you from the coppers. When he could have left you to get caught by them. You shuddered at what they would have done to you, had you been caught.

"– I knew there were no bullets in the gun." 

He raised an eyebrow, his finger drawing a circular pattern absentmindedly over the tip of the whiskey bottle, his blue eyes fixed on you. 

"Why then?" 

You didn't realize how moist your eyes had gotten. Without even thinking about it, you lifted the bottle of whiskey that you were holding, bringing it to your lips, downing the entire contents of it. Your head was feeling fuzzy and heavy but you ignored it, letting out an exhale. You knew you had to tell him, one day or the other, and you deserved answers too. Why did he do it? 

You clenched your eyes shut, your cheeks feeling moist as tears slid off the corner of your eyes, a feeling of dread filling you up. You softly whispered, "I will bloody tell you everything you want to know tonight. You deserve to know and I deserve bloody answers. But can I ask you something, Tommy?" 

He sent you a look, a flustered sigh escaping his lips and he nodded. 

"I know you will walk out of that bloody door the instant I tell you everything. Please Tommy, let me spend these hours with you without the hurt, without the fucking betrayal, and tears." 

You saw him close his eyes, his calloused hand running through his hair. He brought his hand down then, placing it on his thigh when he accidently brushed it against your knuckles, causing a sudden surge of electricity pass through you. What had been a mere act of accident, he finally took your hand in his, his fingers locking against yours, holding on, "Sing for me." 

"Pardon?" You asked again, wondering if what you'd heard was right. The Tommy Shelby you knew loathed singing. 

"It's been ages I've heard a decent song," you saw a weak smile flash across his lips, just for a quick second, as though a memory had hit him, a _sweet_ memory.

"I thought you hated singing," you whispered, looking at him, your lips curved in the faintest of smiles. 

"I still bloody hate it, I just want to hear your voice." 

You cleared your throat, reaching for your pack of cigarettes, and the box of matches. You placed a cigarette between your lips, striking a match and lighting it's tail, watching it burn. Taking a drag, you slowly pulled it off your lips, handing it over to Tommy. 

"If not for me, sing for him, the man you lost at war." He said, in a low voice, holding the cigarette between his two fingers, tapping on it slightly against the ashtray. 

Teary eyed, you stood up, almost tumbling slightly, your mind all swiveling in your head, thanks to all the whiskey you had drunk, using the back of the couch to support yourself from falling backwards. You slowly walked a good few steps away, until you were standing by the fireplace, right in front of Tommy's eyes. You cleared you throat, and closed your eyes, slowly losing yourself to the song that came out of your lips

_"Don't leave me in all this pain, don't leave me out in the rain, come and bring back my smile, come and take these tears away.."_

Tommy visibly froze, his form not moving his eyes off you, his steely blue eyes piercing into you, your words sinking through him, hitting him right where one felt the most. 

_"I need your arms, to roam and now, nights are so unkind... Bring back those nights when I held you beside me. Un-break my heart, say you love me again, undo this hurt that caused you to walk out of door and walk out of my life.."_

You opened your eyes slowly, his hazy form now getting more and more clear and you bit your lip, slowly finding yourself walking towards him again,

 _"Un-cry these tears, I cried so many nights.."_

You found yourself softly whimpering now along with the lyrics that shot out of your lips. 

_"Take back that sad word goodbye, bring back the joy to my life, don't leave me here with these tears ,come and kiss this pain away.."_

You slowly lowered yourself on the couch next to him, his arm brushing against your side. His eyes were not on you, he was staring in front of him, lost in deep thoughts, his eyes glassy, his face almost fallen. 

_"I can't forget the day we laughed, time is so unkind. And life is so cruel without you here beside me.. Un-break my heart, say you love me again, undo this hurt that caused you to walk out of door and walk out of my life.."_

His eyes blinked and he slowly turned to look at you. You nodded at him, giving him the permission although you had no idea what was in his mind. He simply laid down, on your lap, his head now resting on your thighs. 

He broke you. 

Watching him like this broke you. You placed your palm on the side of his head, stroking it softly burying your fingers in his matted hair, sniffling softly, while humming at the same time,

_"Un-break my heart,oh baby, come back and say you love me. Un-break my heart, sweet darling, without you I just can't go on.."_

You crashed against the back of the couch as your song came to an end and a silence filled the parlor suddenly. Tommy had fallen asleep, right there, on your lap. 

So you decided to fall asleep too. 

The night was over. 

You knew this would all end once the sun rose again.

You closed your eyes, your hands still stroking over Tommy's forehead in soft , gentle motion until you fell fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

You woke up abruptly to the cackling of a crow outside the window. It took you minutes to adjust to the bright light that fell through it. Your head throbbed against your temples, forcing you to press your fingers against your temples, rubbing them in circular motion. The memory slowly came back, how Tommy had almost bared his soul to you last night, told you things he possibly never spoke to anyone before and then you remembered, how he had made you sing. 

You abruptly sat in bed and looked around, a wide frown crossing over over forehead. You starkly remembered falling asleep on the couch, with Tommy sleeping in your lap, yet you had woken up in your bed. At first, your thoughts went to the worst possible explanation, forcing you to look down at your clothes. 

You were fully dressed. 

Still rubbing your temples, you slid against the edge of the bed and hopped off it, your bare feet grazing against the carpeted floor as you walked out of the bedroom, yawning wide. 

Where was Tommy? 

Had he left? 

Without even saying goodbye ?

You lazily walked into the hallway, winding your way from room to room until you reached the door of the parlour. Your eyes fixed on him. He was standing by the window, leaning against it, staring at the brick wall of the building next to yours, smoking a cigarette. 

"Mornin', you're still here," you whispered, your voice sounding weak and cracked, probably due to the alcohol you had last night, a whole bottle of it. As if the throbbing headache was not enough to remind you of it. 

Your voice alerted Tommy, making him turn sharply towards you, all the warmth you saw in his face last night, gone. 

Just like you had expected. 

"You've had your night, just like you said you wanted." 

You knew where he was going with this. 

It still hurt, nevertheless. 

You forced yourself to look anywhere but into his cold eyes, the eyes that just hours back, were warm and soft, now turned to stone again. 

"You want answers now." 

He nodded, plucking the cigarette off his lips, into the overflowing ashtray. 

You nodded in acknowledgement, pulling your business face on, the face you had when you worked at the Shelby office, grabbing an empty glass to pour yourself a glass of water. He kept standing by the window, his face now turned towards you, waiting for you to talk. 

"I lied to you," you waited, waited for him to lash out on you, chide you or even insult you but he kept quiet, his cold gaze directed towards you. So you continued speaking, "The man I loved didn't die at war." Thomas raised his hand just then, stopping you from speaking any further, causing you to stiffen. 

"You think a war is a bloody joke, a joke you can lie about," he suddenly walked over to you, snatching the glass of water from your hands, pressing it to his lips. Once he had emptied all the water in the glass, he looked back at you, "Go on. This can't be the end of it." 

You nodded. 

"You killed the man I loved, right in front of my eyes, six months back. You fucking stole from me the only thing I held close to my heart, the only person I had, and wanted to share this bloody life with. You broke my dreams, my dreams of getting married, having babies, and growing old with him, with just one bullet right to his head, blowing it to chunks." You held yourself back, although you wanted to run up to him, scream at his face and slap him. You held yourself back. 

Thomas Shelby just kept looking at you, his mouth lost for words, or maybe, he just didn't want to comment. But you could see it in his eyes, the seething anger, the distilled rage, the kind of rage that was the most dangerous. This kind of rage could remain inside of you for weeks, months or even years. This kind of rage destroyed you, turning your soul a pitch black, unsaveable, unsalvageable. 

"It's my turn to ask you, Mr. Shelby, why did you do it? Oh wait, it's a really silly question to ask, is it not? You must have killed many, not bothering to think if they could have any family, any loved one, that would cry for them once they're fucking gone. Isn't it?" 

You were shaking now, shaking like an autumn leaf, the leaf that falls to the ground, only to get trampled on. "Why would you care? You've got your own family to think about, why would you bloody care about rest of the world? Right?" 

When you looked up, even your cloudy eyes couldn't block your view of him. He was staring at you, a stare you had probably never seen before, a stare that meant like death. It was vicious, it was terrifying. It was funny however, it was like one moment you saw it, flashing on his face, the look that said that he hated you, more than anything he had ever hated and the next minute, he looked much more calmer than what he had looked seconds back. 

"Noel Ladley, that was his name, wasn't it?" His voice reached your ears, his words causing you to press your lips into a firm line, refraining you from screaming at him. You just nodded. 

"Why did you agree to work with me?" His interrogative tone was back, Noel Ladley's name forgotten, yet again.

"For fucks sake," annoyed, your hands flew in the air dramatically, only to fall back lifelessly to your sides, "for revenge. I wanted to get close to you, only to destroy you. I wanted you to feel how it feels like being at the receptive end of a bloody gun for once, Mr. Shelby." 

"You failed, that one thing you so badly wanted, you bloody failed." He simply stated. 

It was like he was deliberately trying to coax you into hitting him and it was working, you were getting angrier and angrier with every word of his. 

"I'm a fucking failure, that's what. I couldn't even do one thing I so badly wanted to," your voice was quivering as you speed walked to where he was standing, your hand reaching out to his breast pocket, pulling out his box of cigarettes while he just kept looking at you, with no expressions on his face. You pulled out a cigarette, sliding the box back into his breast pocket, pressing the cigarette between your lips, "Birmingham changes people, it just bloody gets in our blood, doesn't it?" You whispered, more to yourself, than to him. 

"It was the bloody war for me, that changed my life. I still cannot sleep at nights, you know. I still bloody hear them on the other side of my bedroom wall, trying to find a bloody way to get in, their pickaxes in action," he briefly looked down at his feet, his eyes blank, rubbing his hands together and then back up again. 

You bit your lip hard, almost drawing out blood and you took a step closer to him, almost reaching out with your palm to touch the side of his face when he grabbed your hand abruptly, mid air, "I live it every bloody night, the same thing we bloody faced in those tunnels at the Somme, the constant fear that they will break through the walls," he kept holding on to your hand, too tight, almost squeezing it like a rubber ball, forcing you to clench your eyes shut tight. 

"But they never do, Tommy. They never bloody break in, do they?" You pulled your hand away from him, pressing it to your chest tight, not wanting him to see that his grip had caused the skin at the sides to actually start turning purple. "Don't you bloody get it? They can't reach you in there, ever. All they bloody do is torture you every night, because you let them. You have to learn to bloody let it go." 

Suddenly, the fire in Tommy's eyes was back; along with it, something much more worse, much more terrifying. He suddenly leapt towards you, pushing you to the wall roughly, the back of your head almost colliding with the surface of the wall, a stinging pain rising at the back of your head. He slammed both his hands on either of your sides, pinning you to the wall, his eyes glaring down at you as he spat each words like wildfire, "Don't talk about bloody letting it go. Could you let it go? Look what your bloody thirst for revenge got you into. You're nothing but a filthy mess."

He ignited your anger. You pushed yourself into his face, almost pushing him backwards by placing your hands on his chest, but he was stronger than you were. 

"A war isn't bloody personal, but shooting someone's fiancé is. That is fucking personal, Thomas. What I felt was personal, and I had nothing to do with the war and what you went through. But you — _you_ were the bloody cause of all my pain." 

He suddenly stepped away, giving you the space to escape from his trap and that you did. You slid out from next to him and ran up to a corner by the fireplace, almost gasping for air, as though he had cut off your oxygen supply. Your cigarette flew to your lips and you took a drag of it, letting the smoke out. You kept your eyes on Tommy, following every movement of his, your eyes almost widening when you saw him slide his hand into his pocket and pull out — _a gun_ .

"What the _fuck_ ?" You exclaimed, alarmed.

He suddenly stepped closer to you, bending over your coffee table, placing the glistening piece of metal on the surface of it. 

"What are you doing?" You asked, looking down at him. 

"I'm giving you a chance, since I was the cause of all your bloody troubles, you can end this once and for all. Go on, pick it up — it is _loaded_ this time." He looked on at you, his expressions calm as an ocean, the calm that indicated the arrival of a storm. 

Your gaze travelled from him down to the gun that lay dormant of the table and your head throbbed. 

"Remember this, (Y/N), this is the last bloody chance I'm giving you, you can take it. Because after this, if we ever meet again, it will be like strangers all over again." His words stung you like a needle, painful yet you knew he meant it. He probably considered you even worse than the barmaid that had broken his heart. And maybe worse, he considered you weak and vulnerable. But weren't you? Weren't you a weakling? You couldn't even avenge your Noel's death. 

_You were probably the most pathetic person he had ever come across in his life._

You slowly took a step closer, and another step, towering over the gun and bent, your fingers curling around it as you lifted it. Tommy kept watching you, only his eyes travelling from the gun up to your face, but he didn't flinch or back down. His arms were crossed over his chest, his chest pushed out, his Blinders cap fixed on top of his head, his eyes — _burning_.

Your hands trembled, they shook, and so did your body as you lifted the gun, until you were aiming it to his chest, your own chest heaving up and down in anticipation. You knew this gun was loaded and you could see the safety was off. Your finger placed itself to the trigger and you closed your eyes, pulling the trigger. 

Tommy didn't move. 

You did. 

You screamed as you pulled the trigger, the bullet detaching itself from the gun, with the speed of a bolt, crashing into the wall behind him. You'd deliberately moved, you'd deliberately missed. 

The wall cracked open, sending splinters of wood and cement everywhere. 

Tommy lunged towards you, grabbing you by your arm roughly and pulling you away from the wall as it came crashing down, pushing you to the back of a cabinet, pressing himself to you, his face buried against your shoulder, _protecting_ you. 

You closed your eyes, your walls of hatred collapsing. Your hands flew to the back of his head, pulling him to you as you cried into his neck, your heart breaking. All the pretence of hating each other, of anger and of curses, you couldn't pull the trigger on him and shoot him and he couldn't let you get hurt. 

If this wasn't love, then you didn't know any other way to define what love was. 

Love didn't need to be spoken of, in words. Love was simple actions, and although Tommy had said it a thousand times that you meant nothing to him, now you knew, how you meant everything to him. 

You both clang on to each other in a corner, holding on to each other for support while the room around you engulfed in dust and rubble, the gun now laying abandoned on the floor. 

When you finally parted with Tommy, your eyes fell on his and you looked away, your cheeks stained with tears. He brought his palm to your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across it, only to bring his walls back up again. 

"Go live with Ada, till you can find another accomodation." He stated, clearing his throat and moving away from you. 

He bent, lifting his Blinders cap, that had fallen to the floor, covered in dust and smacked it with his palm, the dust going off. He then fixed it on top of his head and you knew then, this was maybe the last of Tommy Shelby for you. 

You didn't stop him. You couldn't. 

He was still a monster, although you loved him so hard. 

Tommy turned around, the sound of his footsteps moving further and further away, echoing through the hallway. Pushing yourself out of the the rigid structure you had forced yourself into, you ran after him, not to stop him, just to get one last look at him, before he left and fixed yourself by your front door as Thomas Shelby walked out, down the flight of stairs outside your apartment, towards the street, his long overcoat hanging behind him. 

As he was about to cross the road, his feet stopped and he turned towards you, his voice loud and clear, "I did it for my family, for Ada, and I will bloody do it again, without any bloody regrets, whether you are watching or not." 

He was gone, and you were alone. 

Alone — but haunted by the words he just spoke to you.

_He did what he did for his family, for Ada, and he would do it again without any regrets, whether you were watching or not._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth is finally coming out, and you are not going to like it, not one bit.

You knocked on Ada's door, repeatedly, until the door flung open and Ada stood on the other side, a frown crowning her forehead, her eyes swollen and puffy as though she had been asleep. When she saw it was you, her eyes flung open, all the sleep vanished. 

You pushed your way in, past her, walking straight into the parlor of her house and she followed, quietly, without uttering a word. A few seconds passed, and you were pacing around her room when her voice finally rang through your ears, "For the love of God, stop pacing, will you?" 

You angrily turned towards her but instead of lashing out at her, you suddenly burst into sobs, that only turned into full fledged crying. 

"Fuck," she cursed, rushing up to you and wrapping her arms around you, making you rest your head on her shoulders. 

"He fucked up, didn't he? That arse –" she snarled rubbing soft circles into your back as you hiccuped, still sniffling against her shoulders, " – no wonder he is still bloody alone. He just cannot keep a bloody woman." 

She walked you to the couch and forced you to sit on it, handing you a glass of water. You had finally quietened down now, your face streaked with tears. You brought up the glass to your lips, taking a small sip. 

"I'm sorry, (y/n), it was my fault, it was my bloody fault. I thought Tommy deserved to talk to you once. I shouldn't have taken you to the pub last night," she whispered, her voice laced with sadness. 

You shook your head. 

"I've come to think of it like I deserve this, Ada." 

"No, you don't. None of us do. We deserve to be bloody happy, but that arse of my brother doesn't understand. The thick skull of his is too thick to comprehend these kind of things." She shook her head, her nostrils slightly flaring in anger at the mention of his brother and she looked away. 

You finally took a deep breath and grabbed her hand, tightening your fingers around her. 

"He said some things, Ada. I can't get them out of my bloody head now," you whispered, unsure of how you were going to ask her what Tommy had meant when he said he did what he did for his family, for Ada. 

"Tell me, love." She said, softly. 

You let out an exhale, the breath you didn't even realize you were holding in as you started speaking. 

"Six months back, at the stable, Tommy killed a man." 

Ada suddenly turned pale, causing you to raise your eyes at her. She stiffened and pulled her hand away from you, her hand pressing against her chest. Before you could continue, Ada was already on her feet, moving towards the cot where her sleeping child lay. 

"Ada? Are you listening?" You called out, only to get a half-hearted nod from her. It was like she was deliberately avoiding your gaze, like she was hiding something. 

"That man, Ada, that man was my fiance. We were to be married, and Tommy, he just shot him, right in front of my eyes." 

Ada didn't reply; instead, she leant over the cot, staring at Karl, reaching out and pulling his blanket over him, her eyes flicking shut for a brief moment. She then stood up straight, her gaze meeting yours. 

"What do you want me to say?" She said, her voice almost cruel, causing you to flinch. 

"Nothing, I –" You bit back on your words, swallowing the bile in your throat, looking down at your hands. 

"Tommy must have told you he bloody did it for me, didn't he?" Her voice suddenly rang through your ears, forcing you to jerk your head up, fixing your gaze on her. 

"Did he?" You whispered, in a low voice.

Ada walked herself to the window, turning away from you, her palm resting on the windowsill. You regarded her silently, a feeling of uneasiness washing over you. Something was off, you could feel it. It was like your life with Noel Ladley was just a chapter of a book – and many more were to come, most of them, unread by you. 

"I was at the shop that day, I still remember, it had rained all bloody night in Birmingham, the roads were all wet, it was so bloody difficult to walk." You didn't know where she was going with this but you decided to give her a chance to speak. "I went into the shop, I was out of paint, all I wanted to do was paint the fucking walls of my room." You saw a faint smile cross her lips, but it was gone, as fast as it had appeared. 

"That's when I first met him, he was looking for paint too. He said it was for his car, he wanted to paint it brown." 

Your fingers clenched around the fabric of your dress, your knuckles turning white. You remembered it too now. It wasn't for his car, it was for the front walls of your Birmingham house, almost two years back. Noel wanted to paint it _brown_. 

"He seemed like the best thing I had found. We connected instantly, he loved Irish tea, and so did I, I bloody loved it. He walked me home and asked me if he could meet me again, anywhere and I said yes." 

It was as though you didn't want to hear it anymore. You shuddered at what was to come, because you knew, what she was going to say – you were not going to like it. 

"How long, Ada?" You whispered, your voice broken, causing her to briefly flick her glance towards you, only to look away again. 

"Three days, that's all it bloody was for him." 

You rose from the couch, your feet grazing against the floorboards as you walked up to her, placing yourself next to her and she acknowledged your presence, her eyes unable to meet yours. 

"What did _he do_ , Ada?" You said, your voice suddenly cold, your eyes turned to glass. 

Ada slowly turned towards you and that's when you saw her eyes, she had been crying all this while, while her back was turned towards you. You didn't reach out to her, or comfort her, you couldn't. There was like a pull, keeping you away and for once, you didn't feel bad for her. 

"We fucked." 

"He wouldn't do this to me." Your voice was dark, your tone a warning. You were about to lose it, if she didn't shut up. 

She turned to look at you, her eyes widened in shock, hurt registering on her face. 

"Bloody hell, you think I am lying." She snorted, looking at you in disbelief. "For fucks sake, (y/n), get over yourself and look at the truth, for once. Noel is not the saint you fucking think him to be. You know he promised me that he will marry me? He ran off. He bloody ran off and I kept waiting for him, hoping he would bloody turn up. But now I know where he had run off to, that fucking coward, he was with you, all this bloody while, while I was left to face my family, alone, ridden with shame, with his bloody child in my belly."

The shock was enough to make you lose your footing, making you almost fall to your side, your palm grabbing the windowsill for support. Your legs felt like jelly and you crashed into the floor, curling your legs, pulling your feet up to your chest. You turned your neck slightly, fixing it on Karl's sleeping cot and then slowly looked upwards, your eyes fixing on Ada, her head moving in the faintest nod, her nod answering the question that you had dared not ask, but she knew you had it in the back of your mind. 

Karl was actually Noel's child. 

Your insides hurt, and so did your heart. You wanted to throw up, curl into a ball and scream, break things but you just sat there, numb, staring at the wall in front of you as the world around you collapsed. The man you thought was your everything, he had toyed with you, as well as Ada. As you thought of Noel's betrayal, your lips curled and your nostrils flared. 

You finally pushed yourself off the floor, your body suddenly feeling drained of all the energy. 

"If Noel is Karl's father, then who is Freddie Thorne?" You asked, bluntly. 

Ada parted her lips and a weak sigh escaped her lips. 

"It was the only way I could be spared from this bloody humiliation. I didn't want to kill my baby, so I lied to Freddie, and he believed it. Now at least my son has a name and a father, he isn't a bloody bastard." She whispered. 

You turned around, slowly walking out of the parlor, towards the exit of the house. You had heard enough and you couldn't take it anymore. Ada's calls rang after you as she called your name, asking you to stop but it was as though your ears were blocking it all out, you could hear nothing but the sound of your heart pumping at the speed of a race horse. How quickly your love turned to hate and you let that negative emotion swallow you. 

"(Y/N), stop." Ada's voice finally filtered into your ears, her palm latching on to your arm, stopping you from walking. She abruptly turned you to face her, her face pale and weak, streaked with tears. "I'm sorry you had to find out the truth the hard way. That man has destroyed all our lives. And he deserved that bullet that Tommy gave him." 

Your eyes clenched shut, your memory revisiting the day. It was so much blood, so much blood, you had almost vomited. No one deserved this kind of death, even though their acts had been disgusting. 

"Tommy Shelby isn't the law, Ada," you softly whispered, looking down at the earthen floor for a bit, then back up again. 

Ada gave you a ghost of a smile and spoke, "Thomas Shelby is the law and the executioner, if anything ill befalls his family. Noel had run off two years back, leaving me to raise my child alone. Had Freddie not married me, I would have faced eternal shame, and my son would have been called a bastard all his life–" she quietened for a few seconds, collecting herself, running her hands through her hair, "– Tommy would not have touched a hair on his head, if he hadn't come back to pick trouble with him, six months back." 

"What do you mean?" You snapped. 

"He somehow found out that Karl was his son. He threatened me, and Tommy, he would go to Freddie, tell him the bloody truth, and I will be scandalised in front of all Birmingham, the name of the Peaky Blinders will come crashing down. He didn't care about his son, all he bloody cared about was money. He asked Tommy, rather, _demanded_ almost 40% of our wealth, just to keep his mouth shut. If you still think that Tommy pulled that trigger in vain, then the problem is with you."

-

You stepped off the train, squinting your eyes, your palm shielding your eyes from the rays of the sun. You were back home – back to _Birmingham_ , your thirst for revenge and the hatred in your heart all gone. You were here to start fresh, maybe find a new job. Secretly, you wished to run into Tommy, so you could tell him how your heart had changed now, but you knew, it wouldn't work. Tommy had been very clear when he said that the next time when you will meet, it will be as strangers. 

Holding your luggage, you trotted out of the station, to get yourself a carriage when a bloodcurdling scream escaped your lips. An excruciating pain shot through your leg, as you felt something sharp slice into your skin, your luggage dropping from your hand, your body tumbling forward from the impact, until you landed on your front, on the road. You looked back , focusing your gaze on the part of your foot that throbbed badly, finally realizing that you had been shot.

The last thing you heard before someone placed a cloth bag over your head, darkness engulfing you, "Welcome to Birmingham, little bird. I've been waiting for you for a bloody long time now." 

Although you could hardly breathe, and the blood loss was making your mind cloudy, your eyelids feeling heavy, you heard someone laugh, a nasty kind of a laugh. 

_"Send one of the lads to the Peaky Blinders, and let them fuckin' know, we have something that belongs to them. And they don't have bloody much time left to get it back."_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we see season wise, we are somewhere in the end of season 2 and will shortly move on to season 3.

Your eyes fluttered open, forcing you to look around yourself. It all came back to you – you were shot. Reflexively, you tried to move your foot, the one that had been shot, when a crippling pain hit you, causing you to double over, as much as your binds that restrained your arms allowed you to. Hot tears slid down your cheeks, sliding into the collar of your shirt, disappearing. 

Someone had messily bandaged the wound on your foot, too tight, almost cutting off your blood supply, the bullet still lodged inside your foot. You tried to still the movement of your leg, hoping the pain would go away, at least to an extent that it didn't cloud over your senses. 

You looked around, realizing you were in a godown of some sorts. There was no window, the only source of light being the overhead flickering bulb. You tried to calm your breathing but it failed, your chest heaving up and down, your breathing flushed and erratic. 

You tried pulling at your restraints, whimpering as the pain in your leg shot up again, causing you to bite down on your tongue, in an attempt to mask any voice you could possibly make. 

Suddenly, someone kicked open the door in front of you, light barging in through that door, causing you to just see a shadow of a man, standing by the door, his hands placed on the doorframe. He walked in, his shoes clanking against the wooden floor, causing you to strain your ears, trying to listen to the voice harder, until someone gripped your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze falling upwards, on the face of the man that had held you captive. 

"Edmund Moore," you cursed, your eyes welling up, due to the anger and helplessness that you felt right now.

"Well, hello there, little bird, how are you feeling this morning?" He smiled wide, his ugly yellow teeth showing from between his lips. 

"Fuck you," you spat, glaring at him. 

"My, my, lads, we've got ourselves a wild willy," he turned around, making you look around yourself as well. You and Edmund Moore were not alone now, you were surrounded by around eight men with heavy moustaches. "But you know what they say, Edmund fuckin' Moore knows just how to bloody tame one." 

"What the fuck do you want?" You yelled, trying to escape from your restraints, failing, only to get a toothy smile from him. 

"You know what I want, darlin', I want Thomas Shelby."

A man rushed up to where your chair was, placing a stool in front of you. Moore lowered himself on the stool, right in front of you, his eyes boring into you, a disgusting leer spread across his lips.

You arched your body forward, seething, as the pain in your foot worsened, causing you to temporarily lose your vision until it came back to you, in fragments. 

"I don't know a fuckin' Thomas Shelby." You lied.

Moore placed his hand on his thigh, slamming his palm against it suddenly, a loud guffaw escaping his mouth, "Everyone in Birmingham knows a Mr. Thomas Shelby, and you, I'm a hundred percent sure. You worked for him, kept his books, you were even seen with him in London, a while back. You are going to lead me to him, or should I rather say, you are going to _lead_ him to me." 

"Fuck you, Moore, fuck you and fuck that ugly face you've got there," you spat on his face, your saliva sticking to his chin.

His hand suddenly cracked across your face, giving you a stinging blow to the right cheek, causing a gaping cut to your eyebrow, just above your right eye, where his ring had caught you.

You hissed in pain, the sound of the men's laughter echoing through your ears. 

"Are you protecting Shelby? The man who wouldn't bloody think twice throwing you in front of a gun –" His laughter had disappeared now, a deadly glare on fixed on his face directed right towards you. 

"I have no fuckin' idea where Tommy is," you yelled as loud as your parched throat could yell. It was the truth, you had no bloody idea where Tommy actually was. 

"Oh, you do, you just don't want to say it," The minute Moore's words ended, the pain in your foot began. You felt Moore slice his fingers into your bullet wound, making your eyes pop out and a loud screech to exit your throat, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. 

The slow, painful torture continued, for almost over an hour. By the end of it, you were barely able to keep your eyes open, your body throbbing in pain from the kicks you had received to your chest. It even hurt to cough, your ribs must have been severely punctured. You forced yourself to push your swollen eyes open, although you barely saw anything from your right eye, the cut over your eyebrow causing your eye to swell. The men had left you alone now and so had Moore. 

You wondered if anyone was coming for you – _whether Tommy was coming for you._

You also knew you didn't have time. You couldn't sit and wait for the Peaky Blinders to come and rescue you; you had to do something yourself. But it was impossible. You tried tugging at your restraints, again and again, hoping to break free but instead, you ended up falling along with the chair, to your right, the chair hitting the floor with a clatter, alerting the men outside. 

You let out a bloodcurdling scream, your wound throbbing and pulsating against your skin, due to the impact of your fall,forcing you to close your eyes and grit your teeth. The door flung open and footsteps ran in, until you felt someone grab your hair, and another pair of hands grab the chair, pulling you off the floor. 

"Too impatient to bloody get out, I see."

"I DON'T FUCKING HAVE WHAT YOU NEED OF ME, JUST BLOODY LET ME GO!" You screamed, your face coated a red, a mixture of the blood from the gash on your eyebrow and your tears. 

The corner of Moore's lips tugged into a sly grin, his footsteps now walking in your direction. You flinched and clenched your eyes shut when you felt his hands graze your cheeks, his fingers brushing against you face. 

"We wait an hour. The Shelby's can come and get you, if they don't, I have other uses for you. Move on, lads, let her get some sleep while we go out and discuss business." He clapped his hands together and the next minute you knew, the men were trampling out of the room, one after the other, leaving you inside, helpless, weak, probably dying. 

You kept hoping – _praying _that Tommy was coming for you. He would definitely come for you, he loved you. Under the facade of the stone cold heart, you had seen his other side laying dormant, waiting to get out, when the time was right.__

-

You were woken up by a crashing sound somewhere around you. Your body had almost given up by now, you were constantly in a state of sleep and out of it. You didn't know what was real anymore. You were hallucinating, seeing things, things that weren't real. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes wide, fixing it on the man that had held you captive. Moore was standing by the wall, leaning against it, a cigarette pressed to his lips. 

"No one's coming for you, you see? The Peaky Blinders don't give a _fuck_ about you." 

"You don't know them," you whispered. 

He just threw his head back and laughed, only to stop laughing again. 

"I cannot get you Thomas Shelby, why don't you let me go? I am of no help to you."

He shook his head, his hands moving to his waist, placing it on the button of his checked trousers, "you have other uses for me." A vicious smile spread over his lips, his fingers unfastening his suspenders. You knew what was going to happen to you now, but your mind was a disoriented haze. You couldn't save yourself. The next few minutes went by like a vision, you felt what was happening to you but you couldn't protest, you couldn't react, your body was too weak, too broken to register anything further. Moore pulled up his pants, spitting next to the chair, his fingers gripping your cheeks hard. "So bloody tight for me," he smirked, his hot liquid sliding down your thighs mixed with copper. 

"Come on in, lad." Moore yelled, causing someone to push open the door and step in, staring at him. "Well, get her out of here, tend to her bloody wounds, make sure she feels better, eh?" 

You felt footsteps rush over, and someone take off your restraints, locking his arms under your thighs, lifting you up. You didn't protest, you didn't fight, there wasn't any energy left in you. You felt betrayed, you felt hurt, Tommy Shelby hadn't come for you, he had left you to die.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came as a surprise for me too, something I had never actually planned.for this book lmao. 
> 
> Please feel free to judge this as much as you like .

You distinctly remembered sliding in and out of a medicine induced sleep. You didn't know if it was day or night, you didn't know what it felt like to drink or eat, all you knew was sleep. You saw through your disoriented state as men walked in and out of the room you were kept in; sometimes to change your bandages and sometimes to feed you. You felt like a bird in a cage – a broken, beaten bird. 

It took weeks for you to be finally able to sit upright in bed, your ribs taking the most time to recover. They still hurt when you did. 

You sat by the window, on a first floor room, not sure where, with a mug of piping hot herbal tea in your hands, slowly placing it to your lips and took a sip of it. 

Edmund Moore came to visit you at times; he would talk to you on and on, without a mute button to him but you were barely listening. You were in your own little world, your tiny little world that was barred from the rest of the world. This was how your daily routine had become. 

You brought up your tea cup to the corner of your lips, blowing on the hot tea, your eyes fixed on the window, when the door to your bedroom opened and Edmund Moore walked in, his face holding a sheepish, shameless smile.

You hated this man. 

You watched from the corner of your eye as he pulled up a chair next to you and lowered himself on it, slapping his palms against his thighs. 

"You look well, the colour's back to your bloody cheeks."

You bit on the insides of your tongue to refrain from talking to him, giving him the silent treatment, with an occasional glare, once and a while. You had long given up on the hope to escape now; you knew it wasn't possible until you had completely recovered. 

"How long was I asleep?" You said, your voice sounding course and not like how your actual voice was. 

"Not long, a few days, two – _three_ , I've lost the bloody count, but it was weeks when you weren't asleep but were so bloody high on the medicines that you had no idea what the fuck was going on around you." he stated, sitting back, his eyes on you. 

"Don't give yourself that bloody satisfaction of thinking I don't know shit, Moore. Although I couldn't do anything, I haven't forgotten the shit I've been through. Don't worry, this will, one day, bloody come back to bite you in your arse and I'll be cheering that day," You gave him a coy look, arching forward, almost trying to reach the bedside table to place your tea cup, when you winced in pain and Moore reached out and took the cup from your hand, placing it on the bedside table for you. 

"You don't have to bloody lift a finger while you are in here, you can call in any of the lads." 

"First fucking break me, and then offer to help me, what the fuck do you want, Moore? Why didn't you just bloody shoot me because I couldn't get you what you wanted – _Tommy_ ," you hissed, your lips pressed together, your right side of the face, your eyebrow, covered with a bandage. 

"I changed my mind, I can get Tommy some other time, but you –" 

Your eyes pressed shut and your heart internally screamed at him, your insides suddenly churning in disgust when you remembered those times he had stepped into your room at nights, when you were unable to do anything, leave alone scream, your body was in a natural sleep disorientation, how he raped you during those nights, multiple times, exploiting your body, degrading you. 

"You disgust me, _pig_ ," you spat at him, turning your face away from him and fixing your cold gaze on the window.

"And you –" Moore was reaching out towards you, his fingers pressing against your chin, holding your jaw, abruptly turning your face to face him, making you grit your teeth, in anger. " – amaze me. Such a beauty, you are so beautiful, a lad will be crazy not wanting to make that body his," his hands travelled down the side of your neck, his fingers trailing hungrily over the curve of your back, making you slap his hand away, looking at him, disgusted. 

"Well, I'm here to make an offer." He suddenly pulled his hand away, placing both his hands on his knees and sitting up straighter. You had never loathed this man any more than how much you loathed him now. 

"What offer?" You muttered, making your disinterest obvious from your tone. 

"Marry me."

His words tumbled out too soon, but you'd heard them nevertheless, your palm flying up to your lips to cover them. Your vision was suddenly red; you were angry. 

"You're fucking crazy to think I'd marry the likes of you. I'd rather just swallow rat poison." You snarled, your fingers digging into the mattress of the bed. However, Moore seemed unfazed, infact, it annoyed you how he had a smirk on your face. It caused you to whip your head back in confusion, his smirk only widening at your clueless face. 

"You'd be lucky if you found a suitable man to marry you, now that you're, _uh_ –" Your eyes widened, your gaze travelling along with him, slowly, until he was staring at your belly. "Because no one would, not in your condition." He reached out, his palm resting on your faint bump, caressing it. 

Your eyes travelled with him, down to your belly, your eyes filling up with tears. It finally hit you, what he had done to you.

"This–I– _fuck_ , this can't be fucking happening, you _fucking_ bastard, how dare you do this to me? HOW DARE YOU?!!" You forcefully yanked his palm away from your belly, your own hand replacing his, feeling the slight swollen form underneath your night dress. 

"Marry me, (Y/N). Or that child in your belly will be a bloody bastard." 

You glared at him, slamming his hand away as he brought his palm closer to touch your face. You pushed him away. 

"You don't have to love me right away, love. I know you will eventually fall in love with me." 

-

The flight of the birds above you made you feel envious as you watched them fly in circles, just over your head. You were trapped, trapped in such a mess, there was no way out.A month had passed since you had found out how that bastard had impregnated you while you were in a state of incapacitation. 

His offer to marry him still stood; but you couldn't even look at him without feeling an urge to gauge his eyes out. How were you supposed to make him your husband? You weren't showing yet but you knew, in another month or so, you wouldn't be able to hide this secret any longer, once your belly started growing. Your mind wandered to the Shelby's, they never came for you, neither of them did. They left you to die in there. 

You walked through the quiet hallways of whatever this place was, looking for Edmund Fuckin' Moore. You had to ask him things, things that will finally help you in making the biggest decision of your life. 

"MOORE!" 

You stepped from room to room, momentarily coming across something you would rather not see, one of Moore's men, shagging a whore's arse; until finally you found the room where Moore was sitting in – his study. 

"Come in," his voice rang out from the outside.

You pushed open the door, your eyes raging with pent up anger, your eyes still swollen, dark bags underneath your eyes. 

"I want to fucking talk to you, Moore." Without bothering to look at him, you blasted yourself into his study, ignoring the man sitting in the chair in front of him. 

"Mr. Solomons, please excuse her, she's got a little temper." He ignored you, his gaze fixed on the man sitting in front of him. 

"I SAID I WANT TO FUCKING TALK TO YOU, MOORE. WHAT BLOODY PART IS HARD TO UNDERSTAND?" Angrily, you slammed your wrist into the desk, the pen holder shaking by the impact of your hit. You could feel the stranger's eye on the back of your head. 

Moore suddenly stood up, his hands clutched against his sides, his eyes fiery and dark. He walked up to you, grabbing you roughly by your arm, pulling you towards the side,"Can't you fucking see that I am in middle of a business deal?" His nails were digging into your flesh, his eyes burning into you. 

"It's alright, Mr. Moore, you should bloody hear what she has to say, it seems pretty important." 

You sharply turned towards the voice, watching him with suspicion in your eyes. He was a well built man, somewhere in his thirties, his heavy moustache covering his face. He stood up, slowly bending in front of you, and you found yourself giving your hand to him. 

He brought his lips to your knuckles, kissing the side of them, his eyes flashing with a glint in them, "And who might you be, Mr.?"

"Alfie.. Alfie Solomons." 

"I've heard about you, how?" You narrowed your eyes, almost scrutinizing him, Moore standing forgotten behind you. 

"Must have heard about me in London, I'm bloody notorious in my, uh – _actions_ there." He stated , his baritone deep and throaty. You nodded, pulling your hand away, your hand absent-mindedly resting over your belly. 

Moore cleared his throat behind you and from the corner of your eye, you saw Alfie take his seat again, his fingers toying with the ashtray. 

"What happened that day? Did no one try to rescue me? Tommy? Arthur? John? No one? Or they actually did and you hurt them?" You narrowed your eyes , crossing your arms over your chest, entirely ignoring the fact that Alfie was listening to each and every word you were saying. 

"No" 

"Tommy didn't?" 

Your steely eyes grazed over him, studying his face trying to determine if he was lying or if he was telling the truth. 

"You better sit down, love. You might not take the news so well, after all – you and Thomas Shelby do go a long way back." He stated, pulling out a chair for you next to Alfie. Instinctively, your eyes turned to the man next to you, a faint smile was playing on his lips. You sat down, your fingers fidgeting with your dress. 

"Say it, Moore. I'm bloody stronger than you think I am." You hissed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He gave you a devilish grin, making your nostrils flare in anger. "The day you were fighting for your life, Thomas Shelby was enjoying the night of his life, his _wedding_ reception to Grace Burgess; that's where the rest of the Shelby's were, half drunk. It's funny my lads couldn't even get close enough to them to get them the message about you."

You kept looking at him, rigid, unable to move. It was as if your body had turned to ice. Your brain stopped working and you wanted to scream.

This is what betrayal felt like. 

_Betrayal –_

This was enough to help you make your decision, even though you knew it was a rash one. You abruptly lunged forward, grabbing the box of cigarettes laying on the desk, your hands slamming on the box as you plucked a stick out, fixing it to your lips. You felt a warmth next to you and the sound of a light reached you, forcing you to turn your neck towards Alfie. He was reaching out towards you, holding the lit match in his hand. You dipped your head, bringing the end of your cigarette to it, inhaling the smoke.

"Let's fucking do this, Moore." 

"What?" He asked, again. 

"Don't make me bloody change my mind; let's fucking get married." 

Moore's lips curved into a smirk, he reached out, grabbing your hand in his, leaving Alfie alone in the study, he walked out, you trotting after him until you were in the hall that had been turned into an office. 

"Alright, men. Celebrations are in order. I'm finally getting myself a beautiful bride." He pulled you close, wrapping your arm around your waist, causing you to clench your eyes shut and swallow the disgust you felt. 

You were going to deal with him, _later_.

You were going to have to do this, for the sake of yourself and the child inside you, an innocent child, that you were not deeming responsible for the actions of his father.

Now that you were fifty feet buried under this muck, you were going to make the most of it. You were going to make a life, for yourself and your unborn child, and the only way you could do that right now was giving in to Edmund Fuckin' Moore's wishes.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been six months now since you willingly took the poison, the poison of agreeing to marry the man who tortured you, raped you and impregnated you. You were almost nine months pregnant, still ten days left from what the midwife had told you, making you mostly stick to loose fitting dresses and skirts. Ever since your marriage to Moore, he had tried countless tricks on you, hoping to get you to want to be in the same room as him. 

You hated him, but you were excelling in your act – it was only after three months that you finally went soft on him, which was all a part of your _big plan_.

Moore was on a business trip, which was good for you because when Edmund Moore travelled it was usually for weeks. You were curled on your bed, a cushion resting under your lower back for support, a lit cigarette in your hand. You were expecting a visitor. 

As if on cue, there was a knock on your door and you called out to whoever it was to come in. The door croak open, and one of Moore's men poked his head in, "Mr. Solomons is here, he says he wishes to speak to either Mr. Moore or you, whoever is available." 

You nodded, sliding your feet to the side of the bed, stepping out of bed. 

"Take him to the my husband's office, I will see him there." 

He nodded and the door slammed shut, the footsteps retreating away. 

Still holding the lit cigarette, you stepped out of the bedroom, slowly walking towards the study. You brought the stick to your lips, taking a drag, walking inside, finding your guest seated on a chair, smoking a cigarette of his own. 

"Mr. Solomons, a drink?" You raised an eyebrow and he nodded. 

You grabbed a glass hurriedly filling it up to the brim and placed it in front of him, lowering yourself into Moore's chair. 

"You know we cannot keep doing this, one day, Moore's men are bloody going to think we are having an affair." He stated.

You couldn't help but grin, bringing your cigarette to your lips, watching it's end glow. 

"They're too dim witted, for their own good. They won't suspect a thing –" 

"When is Moore coming back?" Alfie cut you off mid sentence, arching his body forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his eyes on you. 

"He's meeting me at the races tomorrow." 

His eyes flew to your baby bump, eyeing you quizzically, "Is that even a good idea?" 

"It will be fine, no baby's coming for the next ten days."

He nodded, his hand sheepishly running through his hair, his other hand tugging his moustache.

It had been a hell of a task convincing Moore to let you go with him to the races. Maybe because Tommy Shelby was going to be there. But that wasn't the reason why you wanted to go, you had better plans. 

"What if he doesn't show up?" Alfie asked, eyeing you. 

"He will, if I am going, he is definitely going to be there. I hope you are not getting cold feet now, Mr. Solomons." You asked, your voice calm like an ice, yet if ever in direct contact with the skin, it is enough to give you a frostbite. 

"We made a deal, Mrs. Moore, I will fulfil my end of it, if you fulfil yours." His eyes were piercing, studying you, scanning you carefully. 

"Alfie –" You stood up from the chair, your hand flying to your back, as you walked up to the window, staring out of it for a brief second and then you turned back towards him, "– It's difficult to place your trust in people, I've learnt it the bloody hard way."

"I haven't given you a reason to doubt myself, have I?" He raised a brow, his fingers toying with the glass of whiskey that lay untouched on the desk in front of him. 

"You haven't given me a bloody reason to trust you either, yet." 

"Fair enough." He gave you a smile. 

You walked up to Alfie, fixing yourself next to him, your back resting against the desk, looking down at him, while you plucked the cigarette into the ashtray. 

"I hope things go the way they're planned, Alfie; if they don't, I doubt we will get another bloody chance." 

Alfie suddenly reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers tightening around yours, looking up at you, "it'll bloody work, it has to." 

It was sudden, forcing you to briefly close your eyes. His touch was nothing like Tommy's, it was different, forcing you to gently pull your hand away, clearing your throat

"What news do you have on Thomas Shelby?"

you finally mustered enough courage – _strength_ to ask. It hadn't been easy, making yourself not think about the man that somehow still lived in a corner in your heart. You told yourself – he was not yours to think about, he never was. 

Alfie looked up at you, staring into your face, a curiousity lingering in his eyes, "Grace Shelby gave birth probably a month back, I thought you'd know. Its a boy." 

You pursed your lips together, giving him a ghost of a smile, reaching out and curling your fingers around the glass that he had not touched. You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip of it when Alfie spoke again. 

"You think you'll be okay with Tommy being at the races tomorrow? 

"Why won't I bloody be okay, eh?" You unknowingly snapped at him, forcing yourself to look away. 

"Just making sure you're not getting weak." He chuckled, stepping up from the chair he was sitting on and moved towards the door. He pulled open the door, moving out but stopped, turning back when your voice reached his ears.

"I'm only getting stronger, Alfie, stronger than what I've been ever before." 

-

This was the first time you had ever stepped into the races; it was loud, lots of people around and it kind of excited you, you wouldn't lie. 

Moore had a VIP lounge and cabin reserved for him, it was said to be the best, the view from up there being exceptional. The second VIP room on the opposite side was of course, for the _Peaky Blinders_. 

"You look exhausted, love, do you want me to get you something?" Moore looked at you, while you pulled your hat over your face, shielding yourself from the sunlight, as you stood outside in the balcony like area, watching the race, a glass of chilled lemonade in your hands. 

"Sit down and enjoy the bloody race, will you?" You shot your husband a fake smile and turned around, your eyes falling on the VIP section in front of you. 

You could see them now – you could see the youngest Shelby, his pregnant wife, this was probably their second child, you had already lost count. The sun was too bright for you to stand out now, your lemonade glass empty, you finally decided to step in and relax a little when your eyes fell on something bright, something golden. At first, you were confused but it didn't take you long to recognize Mrs. Shelby– _Grace_ Shelby.

Looking at her, her beautiful blonde hair, her slender frame, the way the pink dress complimented her skin tone, you knew why Tommy had fallen for her, she was nothing less than a beauty – she was all that a man could ask for. You saw the glimmer in her eyes, the laugh on her lips, a bitter, painful reminder of how unhappy your life was now. 

But you were happy, for Tommy. For Grace. 

You forced yourself to look away, missing by just a second, the man who walked up to the balcony structure on the opposite side, his Blinder cap fixed on his head, a cigarette pressed between his lips, his framed eyes – looking at you. You pushed the door open and stepped inside the cabin, feeling the sudden change in the temperature outside, and inside, succumbing into a comfortable chair to rest your swollen feet. 

Your eyes, however, didn't falter. You kept looking at the clock, and then engaged in some small talk, with your husband, when suddenly he stood up, stretching his legs.

He bent over your chair, looking into your eyes, "I just have some business to settle, I'll be gone a few minutes tops, stay here." 

You nodded, giving him a fake smile and watched him leave, leaving you alone, with a few of his men, who were too engrossed in each other, and in drinking to even notice when you left. 

You wanted to find Alfie; you knew he was there somewhere. 

You stepped down the spiral staircase in the back, using the railing to guide you until your feet hit the floor. You brought your palm to shield your eyes from the rays of the sun, looking for him when you heard _his_ voice. 

"You shouldn't be here, not in your _condition_." 

You sharply turned towards the direction of the voice finding Tommy leaning by the wall, just below your VIP section, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette. You wouldn't deny, you had thought about this often, how would you feel when Tommy was back again? Standing in front of your eyes, looking at you. The truth was, it still felt as though it was yesterday you saw him walk out of that door, the pain still raw and fresh. 

"Mr. Shelby." You greeted him, shunning your depressing thoughts out, keeping your voice emotionless. 

He plucked the cigarette out of his lips and let it drop to the floor, stepping on it and walked up to you, close enough for you to see how he looked aged in just a few months. 

His gaze dropped to your swollen belly for a split second or two, lingering there until he fixed it back on your face. 

"I see you've finally found a way to stitch back your dreams, you are married, with a child on the way. Congratulations, by the way." 

"Don't, Tommy – don't look at me like that." You whispered, your voice almost a quiver, making you mentally curse yourself for showing him just how weak you still were. 

"Look at you like what? You're Edmund Fuckin' Moore's wife now, the man I thought you hated, just like me," Tommy kept his expressions blank, but there was a glint in his eyes, a glint you recognized so well, the same glint that reflected in his eyes when he wasn't pleased, but didn't want to show it. 

"We do things we hate, Tommy, for survival. Congratulations, by the way, I heard you're a son's father now." There was no sarcasm in your tone, and you forced yourself to give him a ghost of a smile, although, you did feel a pang of hurt deep inside. But you chose to ignore it.

"Are you keeping tabs on me?" 

"Birmingham's a small town – gossips travel faster than bloody news," you simply stated.

"His name's Charlie." Tommy replied, making you nod your head curtly in his direction.

From the corner of your eye, you saw something move. That's when your eyes connected with Alfie's. He was standing in a corner, leaning against the wall, his hands buried in the pocket of his pants. 

"Mr. Shelby, please excuse me," you cleared your throat, your sharp gaze fixed on Alfie, then towards Tommy. His eyes looked rounder in his round glasses, it made you smile. 

Tommy nodded, moving out of your way, his gaze not leaving yours for a split second. You could feel his gaze at the back of your skull but you didn't care. You found yourself walking in Alfie's direction, Tommy Shelby watching you. Your mother's words came back to you, when she used to say, " _Don't fly too close to the Sun, love, your wings will bloody burn out."_

You knew what you were doing – you were trying to fly too close to the sun, even though you could burn out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an important announcement for those who are reading this book. 
> 
> Folks, this is the second last chapter of this book. 
> 
> And there will be a sequence.
> 
> Anyway, that's that, you all may read it now.

"Edmund, I don't feel so good," you turned towards your _husband_ , giving him a nauseous expression and he leaned towards you, a worried expression taking over his previously excited face. 

"Is it the baby?" He asked you and you nodded and then shook your head, trailing your hand over to your bump, stroking it in light circles. 

"I just feel suffocated, I need some bloody air. Can we go for a walk?" You looked at him, giving him the softest of the expressions you could force yourself to give him, and his lips curved into a smile. 

"We can stand outside and watch the races?" 

You groaned internally; wanting to reach out and grab his throat, squeezing the life out of him. He was making it so bloody difficult for you.

"It's too bloody hot, just standing outside. Let's just go and take a walk," You wasted no time in hurriedly getting up from your seat, as swiftly as your almost nine month old baby bump permitted you to, hoping Moore wouldn't ask you any further questions. You were already on your way to the door when you saw him finally get up, groaning slightly, quickly taking a sip of his whiskey and placing the glass back. 

"I'll be back, lads, keep an eye out on who's the bloody winner, will ya?" He pointed his index finger to one of the boys, turning towards you. His hand reached out, his palm holding you from the small of your back, guiding you to the stairs. 

You both walked down the staircase, emerging from behind the back, now at the exact same spot where you had come face to face with Tommy a few minutes back. Luckily, he was gone. 

You linked your arm with him, making a small talk with him, telling him about how you had never been at a race before, while at the same time, you skillfully guided him along with you, just where you wanted him to go – the horse stables behind the race track.

"Jesus, for the love of God, what's with your fascination for bloody horses? You've brought me to the darn stables," his nostrils almost flared in disgust, making you internally frown, and chuckle at the same time, at the naivety of this man. All he bloody did was bet on races and on horses and yet, horses annoyed him. 

"I bloody love horses, and I wanted to see who it is people mostly bet on. What's the horse's name? I think it was a horse called Chickita, wasn't it?" You asked, trying to suppress your chuckle.

"It's Midnight, but you were close." He said, almost stepping over a puddle of water that had turned into mud. 

The smile washed off your face. You placed your hand on the old stable door, pushing it outwards, stepping inside, your palm flying to your nose, the smell of hay and horse shit causing a wave of nausea to hit you. 

"So which one is it? The horse called Midnight?" You turned towards the horses, walking slightly closer to get a better look at them, your eyes falling on a beautiful white stallion, with a lavish mane. You almost reached out your palm outstretched, slowly grazing your palm over its neck, stroking it. When Moore didn't reply, you pulled your hand away, slowly craning your neck in his direction, your eyes widening when you saw him stand there, _his gun aimed towards you_. 

"You think yourself as too bloody smart, don't you?" He spat the words, the gun aimed to you. 

This wasn't possible. 

Did Alfie betray you? 

_Fuck_ , this wasn't supposed to happen. 

"What are you fucking doing? Put that fucking gun down." You slowly raised both your hands, as though admitting defeat. 

"My lads are not as dim witted as you think of them to be. I know bloody everything, how and you and that bloody bastard planned to eliminate me." 

"That is not true, my love –" 

"FUCKING SHUT UP!" His voice was so loud, your hand flew to your belly, forcing you to take a step away from him, the gun still pointed in your direction. 

"Bring that piece of shit in." Edmund said. 

Just then, Alfie was pushed towards you from a corner, one of Edmund's men holding a gun to his back. Your eyes briefly met his and he forced his gaze away, his face almost bloody as though he had taken a lot of punches to the face. He was pushed to where you were, your back pressing against his back, your eyes fixed on Moore. 

"It's a rather good plan that you two cooked up. Killing me off, and she will bloody get everything I own after I die. You even bloody did your research, finding out how I don't have any surviving family, except you, unfortunately."

You grit your teeth, your hands clenching by your sides, gripping the fabric of your dress. You'd been busted. 

"Tell me my love, how does it feel to find out I am two bloody steps ahead of you? I've been in this filthy business longer than you." 

Helpless, you let your eyes close, Moore's taunting still echoing through your ears. Taking a deep, punctured breath, you slowly fluttered your eyelids open, your eyes falling on the door behind Moore, the corner of your lips almost threatening to break into a smile of relief when you saw what you saw. Your hand slowly trailed backwards, your palm resting on the pistol that you had hidden in the back of your dress, under the folds of it and gave him a smile. 

"Unfortunately, you are mistaken." 

Bullets rang out in the stables just then, Alfie stepping in front of you to shield you from any bullet that was to come your way. Tommy and John stepped in from the entrance behind you, their guns raging in their hands, a bellowing smoke rising from their barrels. They had shot Moore's and the man's hand at the same time knocking off the guns from them, surrounding them. 

Tommy's eyes met yours and he gave you a faint nod, a signal for you to pull out your gun and finally shoot. Which you did. 

All your pent up anger finally raging out, you pulled out the gun, aiming it to Moore's forehead, a wide smirk on your face. 

"This is for all the bloody nights you couldn't keep your fuckin' cock in your pants. This is for all the torture and all the fuckin' pain you caused me, you son of a bitch." You pressed the trigger, watching the bullet whiz out of the barrel, striking Moore's forehead, his skull bursting into chunks of bone and flesh matter, until his dead body lay lifeless on the floor in front of you. John knocked out the other guy, unconscious, until it was you, Alfie Tommy and John in the stables staring at the mess in front of you.

You had finally used a gun, just like Thomas Fuckin' Shelby had taught you to. 

Your palm flew to your stomach, your body slightly doubling over, your eyes clenched shut for a brief second, your hand gripping Alfie's shoulder, for support. 

"You bloody did it." He whispered to you, his fingers grazing through his bloody moustache and you nodded. You had finally done it. 

"All of you, get out, I want to speak to her, alone." Tommy's voice suddenly reached you forcing you to look at the man that had rescued you, when you hadn't even hoped he would. Had you not seen him hiding behind the stable door, with a gun in his hand, waiting for the right moment to strike, you had thought you had lost this fight. 

"We'll clean up the bloody mess later." You said to Alfie, who just looked at you once, before walking out of the barn with John, leaving you alone with Tommy. 

You stepped back, your back grazing against the wall for support, your eyes on him as he slowly walked up to you, his eyes giving you a brutal stare down, until he was inches from you. 

His hand suddenly flew towards you, not to strike you, just to grip your arm tight, almost digging his fingers into your skin. 

"What the bloody _fuck_ was all that? What were you trying to do?" He snarled, his eyes red with rage. 

You parted your lips to speak, but found your lower lip quivering, anger brewing inside you.

"Get the bloody revenge that was rightfully mine." You said in a low voice. 

"Well, fuck you and your revenge, you bloody got yourself killed." He spat, his grip still on your arm. 

You struggled to get his hand off you, trying to yank your arm away until he finally let you go. 

"I am alive, right in front of your bloody eyes. How did you find out anyway?" You whispered through pursed lips, struggling to keep your anger contained. 

"You'd be nothing but a pregnant corpse if we had been late by a bloody minute. I heard your _intelligent_ plan when you were speaking to Alfie earlier." Tommy took a step closer to you, towering over your frame, glaring down at you. 

"I wouldn't have been bloody pregnant if you had actually been there the night I was taken by Moore." You yelled back at him. 

"So, it's all on me now, is it?" His voice went low, but you could sense the hidden danger behind it, the warning in it, the warning to stop trying to push his buttons but you knew you were far too gone to shut up now.

"No, it's not, nothing is about you, Thomas Shelby, not everything I do is about you, for fuck's sake." You replied, mimicking Tommy's pitch, your hand flying to your stomach.

Suddenly, you felt it, the crippling pain in your belly was back, the pain that you had been feeling since two hours now but hadn't told anyone about. You clenched your eyes shut, doubling forward, placing your palm on Tommy's chest to hold yourself upright. Tommy stopped talking, suddenly reaching out to hold you.

"What's wrong?" He looked down at you. 

You slowly met Tommy's eyes, swallowing the saliva in your throat, beads of sweat coating your forehead. 

"I think – I –" You kept blabbering.

"What, (y/n) ?" 

A sudden wave of contraction hit you and your eyes rolled back in your head. 

" _Fucking hell_ , the pains weren't this bad before." You whispered under your breath, slowly lowering yourself to the ground, on your heels, Tommy following your movements and bringing himself down with you as somehow, when the pain hit you, you had taken Tommy's hands. 

"Pains? What do you bloody mean by before? Have you been having these for long now?" He screamed at you, his fingers entwined with yours, his eyes contracted in worry. 

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, biting down at your lower lip, "My water broke two hours back."

"For the love of God, (y/n)," you heard Tommy curse under his breath, but you weren't listening anymore. You had stalled too long, trying to fight the pain that was mild enough to bear it before but you couldn't anymore – they were getting worse. You hunched forward, holding your belly as your stomach churned, a wave of contraction hitting you hard, causing tears to slide down the corner of your eyes.

"Okay, what do I do, what do I do, I have no fucking clue, Jesus, you had to be reckless like this." Tommy muttered, to _himself_ , his hands still taken by you but you could see that he was in a deep thinking, probably trying to figure out something. The lines of worry etched into his forehead and a smile broke out against the corner of your lips, even though you were seething in pain. 

"L-look at me, Tommy." You said, your voice weak. 

Your words brought him back out of his zone, his eyes landing on you, connecting with you. 

"It's alright." You whispered, giving him a ghost of a smile, only to end in a loud scream, gripping your belly, running circles over it. "Fuck, well, _fuck_ " 

Suddenly, Tommy pushed you back gently, making you sit down by the wall in a corner, with your back brushing against the wall. He took his hands away and stood up, leaning over you, "Don't move a bloody inch from here. I'm going to get Grace. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, _sir_ " you said, in a mocking tone, causing a flicker of a smirk to appear in the corner of Tommy's lips. You saw him shake his head at you, his eyes glistening now, his lips suppressing a chuckle, causing you to smile too. You relaxed back against the wall, watching Tommy rush out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it, folks. This is the last chapter of this book. (There is going to be a sequel book, I'm already working on it.)
> 
> I honestly have mixed feelings about this book and by the end of it, there is a love hate kind of a thing I feel for Tommy. 
> 
> What do you guys think? Do let me know. 
> 
> For now, enjoy the chapter.

Grace knelt by your side, her hand rubbing circles over your belly, her eyes looking down at you in concern. You grit your teeth as a wave of contraction hit you, causing you to almost dig your nails into your stomach, holding it tight, a raw cry escaping your lips. You felt hands brush hair out of your face, the ones that were sticking to your forehead due to your sweat. You were sitting in a corner at the stables, not far from where Moore's corpse lay minutes back now having been removed by the Peaky Blinders.

"I'll be right back, love. Hold on, alright?" You nodded faintly, watching Grace hoist herself up from the ground, as she walked towards the door of the stables, that Tommy stood guarding, not letting anyone step in. You saw from the corner of your eye, Tommy walked up to Grace, both heads briefly turning towards you. 

"We can't move her, Tommy, we have to bloody do this here. I don't think the baby will stay inside for long now." Grace turned towards you and shot you a faint smile, you just fluttered your eyes shut, groaning slightly in pain. 

"Do what you have to, love," you heard Tommy tell Grace and she nodded. 

"Will you watch over her while I go and get some water and a washbasin?" You heard her say.

"I can't believe you're making me do this." You heard him say, his palour suddenly changed, making him look paler than his actual skin tone. 

Grace left Tommy and Tommy finally stepped into the stables, shutting the old wooden door behind. He then slowly walked up to you, his walk slightly awkward and his steps reluctant as he hoisted himself on the ground next to you, his back resting against the wall. You were breathing rugged, hissing in pain when you felt the contraction hit you. 

"Come on, Thomas Shelby, the man that looks at a person in the bloody eye and shoots him right through his skull, without even flinching, don't tell me, this is actually making you nervous." You whispered, your voice almost reduced to a whisper, your body feeling ten times weaker than it felt before. 

"I was at a pub that night when Charlie was born." Tommy had his arm resting over his knee, his head resting against the wall, his eyes fixed on the roof. You could see the Tommy that not everyone knew, the Tommy that hardly showed himself to the rest of the world. You wondered if Grace was lucky enough to be with this Tommy every single minute. 

"Coward," you cooed, resting against the wall. Your smile, however, was shortlived, when your stomach suddenly contracted, causing you to wince in pain, arching slightly forward to adjust the pressure building up in your belly when you felt his warm palm at the small of your back, in an attempt to assist you with trying to get comfortable, his sudden touch causing you to weakly look up at him, your ears clouded with tears. 

"I heard y-you bought the .. Arrowe House, Tommy." You muttered under your breath, trying to engage yourself into a conversation, hoping to find a distraction from the torturous pain that was shooting through your stomach.

He blinked, the typical Tommy Shelby kind of communication, without speaking a word, but acknowledging it. 

"It's ironical, I fucking risked everything to help you, by agreeing to go to London with you, even though I could have bloody said no. It was for that bloody house, Tommy. And you bought it, for her? For Grace? That's so bloody respectful." You tried to calm yourself but couldn't shake away the tightening in your chest, the sudden pang of hurt that you felt. You had not questioned Tommy for the betrayal he had aimed towards you, by marrying Grace, not once. But this hurt. 

"You should just bloody focus on having the baby." He stated, looking at you. 

You shot him a weak glare, your fingers rubbing circles over your stomach. You couldn't sit any longer, you had to walk, the pressure was pushing at your belly. You placed your hand on the ground and tried to pull yourself back up to your feet, but you were too weak to do it yourself. You cursed under your breath, humiliated at how weak you were feeling right now, so broken. Tommy hoisted himself up, then bent down to give you a hand. He wrapped your arm around his neck and pulled you up. Once back up, you pulled your hand away, your hands flying to your back to support you as you slowly walked around in circles. 

"How did this bloody happen? How did you end up carrying his child?" When you turned towards him, he had already pulled a cigarette out and was lighting the match. 

You told him the truth, as much as you could, telling him of how you were kidnapped from the station, shot and then tortured by Edmund's men. You told him of the nights he came into your room, raping you, night after night. 

By the end of it, you were sobbing, a mixture of both physical and emotional pain.

"I waited for you, you owed me that much. I thought you'd bloody save me. But you didn't come. You were fucking enjoying your wedding reception." You screamed, holding the wall for support. 

When you looked back at him, his shoulders were hunched, his eyes lowered. For once you didn't see his rage filled eyes, only eyes that were filled with shame, with regret. He knew he had failed you. You saw him open his mouth to speak, but he probably couldn't find the words. Before Tommy could reply, the door flung open and Grace walked in, holding a washbasin and some cloth. Tommy gave a faint nod towards her and then he walked away.

\- 

"Oh dear God." You panted, feeling the cold sweat wash over you. You were laying down in a corner, clothes hung around you like a makeshift curtain, acting as a barrier to protect your modesty, if someone was to walk in, although you knew Tommy, and probably John and Alfie were outside. 

Grace placed her palm on your stomach, feeling around it, to check the position of the child. 

"You're lucky, my labour lasted all through the night." Grace said.

You gave her a dry smile, shaking your head, as you replied, "You're lucky, your child was conceived in love." 

She didn't reply, moving over to where your feet were, lifting your dress slightly as she took a look between your legs. 

"It's time, love, it's time you get ready to push that child out." She looked up at you and you nodded, biting down at your lip, trying to suppress a scream from erupting through your throat. 

It wasn't long, however, when you started screaming in pain, all your previous composure finally down the drain. It just wasn't humanly possible to bear this pain and smile through it. Your stomach felt like it was being ruptured, causing your legs to spasm with twinges of pain rushing through your body. You heard Grace's voice whisper to you, repeatedly, how strong you were and how well you were doing. 

"(Y/N), you have to bloody push now, okay? Look at me." You followed Grace's voice, nodding towards her. "On the count to three, one... two.. three...push." 

You clenched your eyes shut, screaming at the top of your lungs as you bore down and grunted at the same time, trying to ease the pressure you were feeling in your belly. Push after push followed, and within minutes, you found yourself drained out of all energy you had left inside you. 

The pain was only worsening. You felt your skin stretching and tearing as you continued to push down, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. 

"Jesus, I see a head. You need to push a bit more, love." You heard Grace say. 

It was as though the spotting of your baby's head had fuelled your energy a bit. You bit into your cheeks from the inside, and pushed, when finally, you felt the baby pop out of your body, into Grace's arms. 

You collapsed to the ground coated in sweat your breathing laboured as you looked at Grace. 

Only, she didn't have joy on her face. She looked like she had seen a ghost. 

"W-What is it? Grace? Is my baby okay? Is my fucking baby okay?"

You looked at her, heartbroken, shattered. 

"She's – I'm so sorry." 

That was a good enough answer for you. You saw Grace wrap your baby girl in a cloth, covering her up. In that moment , your world collapsed. Your little hope in the dark world, your _only_ hope of companionship, was gone. You were destined to be alone, for the rest of your life. 

"Get out."

You knew you were being harsh, but you needed her to understand, that you needed to grieve, to be alone. She, out of all people, should have understood. She was lucky to have a husband who loved her and a happy , healthy son. While you were forced to marry the man that disgusted you, and now you had lost the only thing that was keeping you in one piece, your baby.

Grace froze, as though she had heard you correctly. 

"Excuse me?" She softly said. The door opened and Tommy stepped in at the exact time. You placed your hands on the floor, pushing yourself up in a sitting position, staring at the blood all around you. 

"I said GET THE FUCK OUT!" You snarled, your eyes burning. It was so intense, it caused Grace to flinch, almost dropping your dead baby to the ground. Hurriedly, she placed the baby next to you and turned to look at Tommy, tears running down her eyes before running away. 

Tommy was looking down at you, his jaw tightened and his eyeballs laced with red and rage. If looks could kill, you would be 10 feet underground. Instead of acknowledging his presence, you reached out to your baby, lifting her in your arms, pressing her to your chest."That wasn't quite nice, was it? The way you just bloody talked to Grace? The woman who fuckin' helped you without even asking for anything in return?" 

You closed your eyes shut. You wanted him to fuck off, leave you alone to wallow in misery. You had just lost a child and he was being an insensitive fuck. You ignored Tommy's remark, choosing not to indulge him and instead, with an effort, you hoisted yourself off the floor, wiping yourself as much as you could with the water in the washbasin. You kept holding your dead baby in your arms, even though you knew she was gone and there was no point in holding on to something that didn't really exist. She hadn't seen the light of the world. 

"You know what ?" 

His voice made you sharply turn towards him. 

"This is why I bloody chose Grace over you. That woman will breathe life into a dying bird, while you - you will bloody trample it under your feet." 

You were fuming with anger at his words, at his insensitivity. Your hands shook as you stormed towards him, like a raging bull, until you had given him a hard push, again and again, until he finally grabbed you hard by your arms, and suddenly, did the unthinkable, something you had never expected he would do. He backhanded you, right across your face, the sound of the slap echoing through the stable. Your body jerked to the side by the impact of the slap, and when you pushed yourself back, your palm flew to the side of your face, your finger feeling the thick red blood on the corner of your lip. 

"Thomas Shelby, a man – or wait, should I say a monster like you – a woman who _breathes_ life into birds will never come in handy. You know why? It's going to bloody go on and on. You will keep shooting those darn birds and she will keep trying to pick them up. Now get the _fuck_ out." 

Tommy gave you one final glare and he shook his head, as though in disgust. "I've had enough of this, I'm out." He turned to go out, his box of cigarettes falling out of his coat pocket, the coat he was holding in his arms. You took the moment to bend and grab it, pulling out a stick and nipping it to your lips. Tommy turned towards you when he reached the door and you smiled. 

"It's fuckin' war, Thomas Shelby, Moore might be cold in his grave, but this is all mine now. Don't you bloody think you can try to claim it. I wouldn't think twice before pressing the bloody trigger this time." You hissed, bringing up the light to the cigarette end. 

"I'd like to see you try." 

That were the last words Tommy Shelby spoke to you, the words you thought would be the last he will ever speak to you. 

But life doesn't always goes by the things you have planned for it. 

No one knew what was stored in future for you.


End file.
